The Locust
by RoadrunnerGER
Summary: A serial killer is on the loose and soon Bobby’s life at stake. Will MCS and SVU find him in time? Who is this Locust who seems to know every step of them in advance? And who will be his next victim?
1. Prologue

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of _Criminal Intent_, _LO:SVU_, _CSI:NY _or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

_Summary_: When very different women are found dead the only connection between them is the modus operandi of their murderer. MCS starts to investigate. With the next body clues were offered to them which suggest the _game_ to get personal. Time's ticking…

**A/N: **Don't be confused by the start – that's due to the crossover. Please have fun - and post reviews... ;-).

**Prologue**

In tow of the worker who looked after the premise, Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler crossed the scrap yard. There was the jeep they were searching for. Its remains lay in the confines of a separated court, where cars were kept that still had to be examined, by insurance experts for example.

Together with Benson and Stabler came the Detectives Stella Bonasera and Danny Messer who were with the CSU, the crime scene unit.

"Okay, here it is," the worker said. "Help yourselves."

"Thanks," Stabler growled.

"You still need me?" the worker asked. "Or can I go back to the office?"

His _office_ was a small hut at the entrance to the scrap yard… and looked like scrap, too. But he was uncomfortable with the detectives and wanted to get away from them.

Bonasera smirked. "We will call you." She already had gloves on and tried to open the trunk. It was a bit difficult because it was stuck and Messer helped her.

"Damn. That thing looks as if it has already been inside the press," Stabler muttered under his breath. He also slipped on a pair of gloves and had a hard fight with the driver's door before it opened.

"Okay, we have a license to this car. Fin and John are checking everything that's connected with it. We will have a look at this." Benson dove inside through the passenger door.

The insides were a total mess as well as the whole body of the jeep. There were also traces of the foam used by the firefighters to extinguish the flames.

Messer carefully examined the contents of the trunk. "This is a laptop-case." He picked it up and opened the zipper. "Here we have a computer. We should test as soon as possible if it works."

Carefully he rummaged through all parts of the bag. "All the cables are here. I could try at the yard's office…"

"Okay, Danny," Bonasera confirmed and he left.

"Here is nothing that could help us," Benson said, looking into the glove compartment.

"I cannot find anything here, too," Stabler added. "Is something else in the trunk?"

"Some DVDs," Bonasera replied. She opened one of the boxes. "Self-recorded. Everything else has been destroyed. Let's see if Danny could find something on the hard drive."

The three detectives went to the hut where Messer occupied the desk.

"Found something?" the forensic expert asked his partner.

Stella laid down the discs beside the laptop.

"Good." He inserted a DVD and started the drive. It was the grainy image of some kind of cellar where a woman with long black hair was tied to the wall with ropes.

"Holy shit," the scrap yard worker swore.

"We can watch this later," Messer thought aloud and stopped the film. He continued to click through the different folders on the hard drive. Then he stopped. "Let's try this…" he said and double-clicked.

Once more the detectives saw the cellar but this time they knew all-too-well the person who was trapped in there.

With mixed emotions they stared at their fellow detective who was tied to the floor with shackles and chains.

"We have to find them," Benson murmured. "We must… but we're running out of time."


	2. Chapter 1

_**The locust**_

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of _Criminal Intent_, _Without a trace_, or any other show mentioned here. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hi HX9, thanks for your review. To spark someone's interest is (exactly) the purpose of a prologue, and it's nice to see that I could make it work. Hope you'll stay till the end. It will be a longer road… BTW… guesses who might be the one trapped in the cellar are welcome!

**1**

**Central Park**

**Manhattan**

Hot and humidous summer days melted the pot of New York more effectively than the great variety of people. Linda Montagnolo walked down one of the smaller paths in Central Park. She was looking for a shady place under a tree where she could take her time to read the newest crime novel of her favourite author: _One Shot_ by Lee Child.

_Ah, here we go, _she thought_. A wonderful maple_.

She strolled over the yellow burned grass and stepped into the shade. There she put down her bag and drew a blanket from it. She spread it out and sat down. Leaning with her back against the trunk she stretched her legs and opened the book. A few sentences later she was in one heartland city watching Jack Reacher, former military police officer, investigate a sniper attack.

While she was reading the wandering sun chased the shade away until Linda's bare feet began to burn into the light. She looked at her watch.

_Oh, no!_ She closed the book and stuffed it into the bag. The blanket followed. She slipped on her shoes. _Damn! The only bad thing about Child's books is that you can't put them down_._ I'll miss my date with Caro!_

She hurried back to the path and up the slope. Deep in thoughts she didn't notice the woman with her boy in a buggy until she hit her shoulder.

"Watch where you're walking," the young mother shouted in anger.

"I'm sorry," Linda blurted out. She had lost her bag. As fast as she could she stuffed her things back in. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." The brunette pushed back her hair and took a deep breath. "It was just the surprise. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm in a hurry. Please don't be mad at me."

"No, I'm not. Go!"

"Good day to you. And sorry again!"

Linda ran. She was supposed to be at Caro's in fifteen minutes and she knew that she wouldn't make it in time. Her cell phone was set on the docking station at home, so she would have to search a public phone. Somewhere on Fifth Avenue she would find one. She headed for the nearest exit and dove under one of the several arches, built in roughly hewn stones.

And then she was gone.

xxx

**Jacob K. Javits Federal Office Building**

**FBI-Field Office**

**Manhattan**

Special Agent Samantha Spade was the first one of the missing persons squad who saw the young woman with the mane of fiery red hair in a sport suit and a visitor's clip on her sweatshirt. She came in company of one of the rookies who introduced her to Sam as Carolina McCarthy. Apparently the young agent was more nervous than the lady and didn't want to go, when Sam asked him to leave. She could see that he was eager to be part of any investigation. He was new and full of enthusiasm. And Sam had no use of him. She asked him again, more distinctive, and he got the final call.

"Please come with me," Sam beckoned the lady to one of the offices nearby. "How can I help you?"

"It's Linda," the redhead said. "She's missing. And the officers gave me to understand that they wouldn't care about it."

"How long is she missing?" Sam asked. She gave the lady a sign to sit down and took the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"That's the point. We're missing her for nearly three hours."

"Three hours," Sam repeated incredulously to be sure she got it right. "Is there any reason why you should worry about her after just three hours?"

"It's because of Jamie. She's her daughter and Linda left her with us to stay with our two children, Carrie and Christie, for the afternoon. Linda wanted to meet me at five to make sports, stay for dinner and go home with Jamie. But she didn't come."

"Okay," Sam said. "I need more information. You said your friend…"

"My sister. Her last name is Montagnolo, as was mine until I got married."

"Your sister was supposed to meet you at five. Do you know what she wanted to do during the afternoon?"

"She just wanted to relax. She's single – again – and has a lot of stress with two jobs and a little girl. I believe she said something about Central Park."

"Where does she work?"

"In the mornings and three days in the afternoons she's in a book shop in Greenwich Village. Two evenings and Saturday she works as a waitress."

"Where?"

"Oh, a small diner. What was the name…? Something with Tony's I think." Carolina took a deep breath. "Next month she wants to start a new job. Better times and well paid. She will have more time for Jamie."

"And you are sure that Linda hasn't called? Do you…?"

"I have my cell phone here. And Sharina's at home with the girls. Tom's waiting at Linda's place in case she's coming back. We already checked some hospitals. She's not there."

"Who's Sharina?"

"Our au-pair. She takes care of the children."

_You have an au-pair and your sister has to work two different jobs?_

"Linda lives in an apartment two floors below our own. We both inherited a certain amount and we decided that Linda should buy this apartment after I got married with Tom. We told Linda that we would help her, but she didn't listen. She said that she didn't want to depend on us. It was easier when Linda had a fiancé but they split up a few days before Linda recognized she was pregnant. She didn't let us help." Carolina explained it in a tone as sharp as though she had read Sam's mind. "Every time Linda has to work Sharina takes care of all the kids. That's an arrangement Linda could agree with without feelingto be obliged to us. Now that Jamie is a bit older I tried to find Linda another job. She applied and got it."

"How did she split up from her fiancé. I mean how is their relationship now?" Sam stroke a lock of her rich blond hair behind her ear.

"Her relationship to Francesco?" She saw Sam nod. "It doesn't really exist. Do you think, he could have done something to her?"

"Do _you_ think he could?"

"I don't know. Frank is a reserved guy. Very calm. I rather don't think he could hurt her."

"Does he know that he is the father of Jamie?"

"No."

"Linda hasn't told him?"

"You're drawing wrong conclusions. She hasn't told him, because he isn't Jamie's dad."

"He's not?"

"No. He can't be. He had scarlet fever when he was a boy. So he's out of the question. But there was a crisis developing several weeks before they finaly separated."

"So, who's Jamies father?"

"I don't know. Linda never mentioned his name."

xxx

"Could there be a connection to Jamie's biological father?" Supervisory Special Agent Jack Malone asked his colleague twenty minutes later, pensively viewing Linda's photograph, which hung on the whiteboard next to the timeline Sam began to draw. She held her daughter Jamie in her arms. They both had the same flaming hair as Carolina.

"It's not to be excluded," Sam said. "But we don't know who he is."

"What do we know?"

Sam reported the details, Carolina McCarthy had given to her.

"That's not very much to work with," Jack sighed. He had another look at the first date on the line – missing since 5 p.m. "But we don't want to disappoint Thomas Eugene McCarthy the Third. Where do we start?"

"We can take charge of her apartment," Vivian Johnson said and looked first to Martin Fitzgerald then to Jack. "We talk with the brother-in-law and see if we can find some notes or other hints."

"Okay. Sam, let us try and find someone who has seen her leaving the house."

Sam acknowledged it with a nod. Then the agents left their headquarters at Federal Plaza.

xxx

**152 East 73 Street**

**Manhattan**

The man who opened the apartment's door was almost six feet tall. He wore a blue suit in three pieces and dark blue slippers.

"You have to be the FBI-agents," he said. "Caro called me. We're glad you're into the investigation." He looked at their badges. "Please, Agent Johnson, Agent Fitzgerald, come in."

"Mr. McCarthy, have you seen your sister-in-law today?" Viv asked as she and Martin followed the man into the living room.

"Yes, it was around noon," he answered. "Take a seat."

Viv accepted the offer while Martin remained standing, looking round the room.

"What was Linda doing when you saw her?"

"She came to us with Jamie. She had a big handbag and was in leisure wear, a red cotton blouse and jeans-shorts." His eyes sparkled with the imagination. "I think she wore sneakers."

"Did she mention what she wanted to do?" Viv looked up from her memo pad.

"She talked about the new crime story she began to read. Must be the fourth or fifth novel by Child that she got. She's a fan. I think she was looking for a calm spot where she could enjoy the sun and the story."

"Would she go to Central Park?"

"I'm relatively certain she wanted to go there. She loves plants. She will have looked for a tree."

"Your wife wasn't so sure at all. Why do you think she was going there?"

The agents could watch a reaction they did not expect – he blushed.

"She often did that."

"Is there any reason why that should embarrass you?" Martin asked.

"No."

Viv looked at Martin. She wasn't convinced.

"Did something unusual happen? Did Linda had problems?"

"I don't know. Everything seemed to be as usual."

"Your wife also told us that Linda had problems with her fiancé."

"With Frank? He ceased to exist for her. Their relationship cooled down over a long period of time until it was colder than ice."

"We learned that he is sterile because he had scarlet fever."

"That's right. Linda always wanted kids of her own. I think his impotence was the beginning of the ending of their relationship." His face reddened again.

"That means that someone else is the father of Jamie," Viv said. "Do you know who it might be?"

"Why is that important? It's not Jamie who's missing, it's Linda. If I would be the one I would kidnap the girl not the mother. By the way – he could make a test and claim care and custody. If not just for himself than the shared."

"Perhaps he didn't want to share." Martin took one of the photographs on the sideboard: Mr McCarthy, crouching on a lawn, Carolina and Linda at his sides, arms around his shoulders, and the three girls in front of them on a blanket.

"There are better ways."

"It might be possible, that Jamie's father wants Linda to be out of the way. If he can prove he's her biological father and Linda's disappeared or worse, dead, he could get the child."

Now McCarthy's face turned dark red. "I don't think that he would be so dumb."

Viv looked to Martin. Both had noticed the tiny pearls of sweat on McCarthy's forehead. He definitely had to learn how to lie.

"How often did you accompany Linda when she was in the park?" Martin demanded to know.

"Never."

"Oh, really?" Viv followed the same idea.

"Does your wife know that you have an affair with her sister?" Martin shot his question.

"What do you mean?" His colour changed from red to white.

"Well, you seem to know Linda very well."

Again, McCarthy blushed.

"Is it because you're a good brother-in-law or is there more to your relationship?" _If he lies to his wife as good as he lies to us, we should ask _her_ for an alibi_, Viv thought.

McCarthy took a deep breath. "Please, oh please don't draw wrong conclusions", he begged. "And don't tell Carolina. I should have told her, but she… It's difficult with her. In fact it was her fault. I never would have come so close to Linda if Caro would not…"

"What are you trying to tell us, Mr. McCarthy?" Viv pressed.

"We are married for fifteen years now," he explained. "In the first years Caro had three miscarriages. It wasn't difficult for her to become pregnant, but she lost the children early and after the third her doctor told her that she shouldn't try again. That's why she asked her sister for help. Linda was sceptical but nevertheless went to see the doctor. He took my sperm and Caro's eggs and tried to fertilize Linda – but it didn't work. So Caro came up with the idea to try it the natural way. She talked us into doing it and then we did – together with her."

"You mean, your wife asked you to impregnate her sister." Martin was surprised. Concerning these people he wouldn't have thought of a relationship like that. "And Linda agreed."

"Yes, she did. Everything was fine. I don't believe that Caro could hurt her sister, if you're thinking that way."

"I understand you right? Each of the three girls is the daughter of Linda – and you?"

"Biologically – yes." He looked down to his hands in his lap and up again. "At first Caro just watched us do it, but then she tried to participate. At last it was really good sex with both the women I love."

Ooops! There it was! The small but important word with the four letters. LOVE.

"So, does your wife know that your relationship to Linda changed? Apparently Carolina doesn't know that Jamie's your kid, too."

"I hope she doesn't. It would break her heart." This time he paled. "I should have told her. But how could I? I love Carrie and Chrissie – and Jamie, too! They are all my daughters. I don't want to lose them – but I don't want Caro to lose them either. Everything's fine like it is now."

"Linda's missing," Viv said. "And it might be possible that your wife's responsible. I don't think that this is fine."

xxx

"Hello, Sir. Have you seen her today?" Sam asked the janitor flashing her badge and showing a photo of Linda.

"O yes, I did," he answered. "That's Miss Montagnolo, apartment 503. What did happen? Is she in trouble?"

"She's missing. When did you see Miss Montagnolo?"

"Wait… Yeah, must have been 'round one. We exchanged some gossip, then she left. She said she would go to Central Park."

"What were you talking about?"

"The thriller of yesterday evening and the dogs of Mrs Goldman," he said and gave a wry smile. "One of the little bastards used the elevator again."

"Ooops." Sam smiled back. "Have you seen her sister, too?"

"Yes, ma'am. That was a quarter or twenty past five. She asked me if I saw her sister coming back. – But I have not. Do you think something happened to her?"

"Hopefully not."

"I hope you'll find her."

"We'll do our best." Outside the building she met with Jack. "Where are we going now?"

"Let's try and follow her footsteps," Jack proposed. "The guy at the kiosk saw her walking that way." He pointed in the direction and began to walk.

On their way they were talking to some passer-bys until they reached an entrance at Central Park. Sam addressed to a hot dog seller. He smiled when he saw the picture she was showing him.

"O yes. Linda was here. She got a big one with cucumbers, onions and a lot of sauce. Then went into the park."

"Have you seen her again?"

"Leaving? No. But I had a lot to do. Most likely I missed her."

A man closed in on him from the other side. "Can I get one, please?"

"Did I help you, lady?" the hot dog man asked, already fishing for a sausage.

"Yes, thank you."

The two agents stood at the entrance and let their view wander. The trace led here and now it was almost cold.

"We could ask the mounted policemen," Sam thought aloud. "Perhaps someone has seen her in the park."

* * *

A/N: That was the first chapter. Hope you liked it. (Now would be the time to write a review…;-)

**Oh! These cameos were used to establish some facts… – Our friends from _Criminal Intent_ will lead the story from second chapter. Promised.**

By the way: Don't miss _One Shot_ by Lee Child. His _Jack-Reacher_-novels are some real hot shots, breathtaking – my favourite is _Die Trying ._


	3. Chapter 2

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of _Criminal Intent_, _LO:SVU_, _CSI:NY_, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: I know, it's an unconventional start, but there is so much more to come… Hey folks, why don't you give a newcomer a chance and leave a few reviews? **Feedback would be so** **wonderful**! Please take the time to share your opinion with me. Thank you.

**2**

**Sunday**

**Just after nightfall**

It was a narrow passage between containers on a construction site. The CSU technicians already had problems to take pictures of the corpse. Now they were struggling to collect evidence before the coroner took the body to the morgue. From the top of the containers the light of four big spots flouded down. While the crime scene investigator crouched on one side, Detective Robert Goren stood in the opening on the other side watching him work. Then he looked at the woman.

_Her age may be 35 to 40_, he estimated. _Older than the last one – and younger than the first._

She was naked, lying on her back, arched over a heap of sand. In this position her breasts were the highest points. Her legs were crossed. Markings on the skin told Goren that she had been bound at the ankles. Her hands lay on her stomach, folded, markings around her wrists, too. The head was bent backwards, her long dark hair spread round it like sunbeams. Openmouthed she stared with lifeless brown eyes into the spotlights.

Goren took a deep breath. He had to swallow. All of her limbs and the torso were studded with cuts, burnings and other injuries. Her abdomen was mutilated. And her nipples were cut off.

"Hey, Bobby. Can I take a look at her, too?" Detective Alexandra Eames asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice. She only saw his back. With his tall body, hands held behind his back, he blocked the whole passage between the containers.

"Something must have infuriated his rage," he said in a soft tone. As a detective he knew Alex had to see the corpse. As her partner and close friend he thought that it might not be necessary.

Eames was surprised. She wasn't used to her partner standing on one spot, motionless, speaking in such a low voice. Not at a crime scene. She saw him clench his fists.

"What has he done to her?" she asked.

"Perhaps we should call in Cragen's team," he answered, still not moving.

_The colleagues of the SVU, the special victims unit_, Eames thought. They dealt with all kinds of sexual delicts.

"What has he done to her?" she repeated, grabbed his arm and shoved him aside. The first she saw was the part that only consisted of torn flesh and blood. She paled and spun round.

"Seems to be the same guy," Goren said.

He felt Eames' body at his side. She wasn't really leaning against him, but she drew comfort out of his presence.

"You think so?" she pressed through gritted teeth. _I have to master this_, she thought, _I've seen worse than this_. Finally she turned again to face the dead woman.

"Yeah. The posture's the same," Goren affirmed. "You see the crossed legs and the folded hands that make her look like she's praying? Even the arch is there." The motion of his hand imitated the form. "Her mouth is open, the hair spread out, fully at the mercy of her attacker." Big gestures accompanied his words.

Inwardly Eames smiled. He was back in business. She felt her confidence return.

"Do you have any idea why he might have been enraged?" she asked. "None of the others had such injuries."

"Disapointment?" He tilted his head to the side for better view of the body. "Perhaps she didn't respond to him as he expected."

"He must have been furious." Eames pointed to the cuts and stabs. "These are at random."

Goren nodded. "But his worst moment caused the mutilation."

"I wonder how he put her there. The passage is only one or two inches broader than your shoulders. How could he arrange her like that?"

"We will check if she was there first," someone from behind of them said. The woman with the long brown curls put on a pair of rubber gloves. "Perhaps he set the containers down after he arranged her body. Danny?"

"Nothing yet," he answered without looking up.

"Any other evidence, Detective Bonasera?" Goren asked.

"We've only just begun." Bonasera grinned wryly. "Give us a little more time."

"I'll get your report…"

"…when it's finished," she interrupted him. "We won't risk anything by working too fast."

"I know. Just make sure we get the results as fast as possible."

"Mack will be the first, you the second."

"Stella?" Danny looked up at her. "You may be right."

"What have you found?"

Like the other two detectives, she craned her neck to see what Danny was pointing to.

"A lock of her hair. It's under the container."

"Okay then. Get the camera back."

He grimaced. With three steps he was at the opening behind him and got the camera from his case where he had left it. Then he bowed again over the corpse and took a photo of the hair in detail.

"Will Mack also be here?" Goren stepped aside and Bonasera knelt down in front of the woman's feet.

"I don't think so. We already have three crime scenes to investigate this evening. Mack's uptown with Hawkes."

"How's he doing? Does he miss the morgue?"

"I didn't ask him."

"Will you greet them from me?"

"Of course I'll do. And now you have to excuse me. I have a job to do. There's an impatient detective who urges me to get finished."

xxx

Through his binoculars he could watch very well the different police units gather at the crime scene. After the frantic call over 911 the black and whites were the first to arrive. They were followed by the coroner and first reporters, who got wind of the new corpse. Side by side they waited behind the yellow police line for the latest news to circulate them on via TV or Newspaper.

Now the CSU detectives entered the scene, just a minute after the detectives of Major Case Squad. Yes, he'd already seen them. Still, they were talking with the officers who were the first at the construction site. The cop gestured towards his patrol car, where the kids were waiting. They had actually found Lindsay, playing on forbidden ground.

His lips curled in disgust.

_Lindsay. Whoa! So promising! So unsatisfactory!_

Major Case had taken over the case after the fourth body had been found. The first time he had seen them was the location where Bridget had been waiting to be discovered.

He watched the detectives approach the containers. The big one stopped short at the gap between them.

_Would like to know what he's thinking now. Would even more like to know what she's thinking. Well, she won't think anything as long as her bulky partner stands there in the gap blocking her view._

Suddenly he had to grin. She had grabbed his arm and shoved him aside. Obviously she was eager to do her job. And then she turned, visibly shocked by the sight. For a moment she took on the color of porcelain, leaning against her partner's side. But she brought herself to turn again to the scene in less than half a minute.

_Brave girl_, he thought. _I knew you would master this_.

Both detectives were talking with the brown curled CSI now. Between the containers lights were flashing as the other CSI took photos.

He put the binoculars into his bag and left the garage where he had been waiting for the cops. Down on the street he stowed the bag away in his car before he trotted on towards the construction site. Just behind the small crowd he stopped.

Across the heads of several reporters he scanned the area. From this point of view the containers could not be seen. This he already knew, but he looked there nevertheless. It would have been suspicious not to look.

He walked on along the fence which surrounded the site. There was the gap. Here he dove deep into shadows.

That was the reason he had picked precisely this place to deposit Lindsay's body. Through the hole he could watch the cops without being seen. And even if someone would notice him… he was just watching.

_They really look a bit odd together._ The picture of Stan and Olly suggested itself to him. _Yeah, there are some similarities. Most of them are on the big detectives side, though. He is not as lanky as Stan Laurel and definitely not as clumsy, but his behavior fairly reminds me of him nevertheless._

Right now the coroner tried hard not to roll his eyes. All he wanted to do was to take the corpse to the morgue and to hand it over to the medical examiner. But once again he got delayed by the curious examinations of the body by the MCS detective.

_And I truly don't want to say that she reminds me of Oliver Hardy. He chuckled inwardly. No, the only similarity here is her height._

_Alexandra Eames. _Detective_ Alexandra Eames._

_Alexandra is the female equivalent of Alexander, comes from the Greek and means __a defender of men. Kind of prediction as she has become a police officer._

Together the detectives went back to their car.

_Well, end of the show for today._

He left his hiding place in the shadows and returned to his own car. Sitting in the driver's seat he looked over his shoulder into the loading space. In the darkness of the windowless van the woman was hardly visible. She was breathing evenly.

_Still sleeping_, he assumed. _Perfect_.

He turned the key and left the curb.

xxx

**Monday morning**

**One Police Plaza**

With the next day came more paperwork. There were other cases to work, too, and Eames and Goren dealt with them until they were interrupted by another detective.

"We were right with the containers," Stella Bonasera said and laid down a folder with the forensics report right upon the file Goren was reading.

"That's fast," he commented, referring to the conversation the evening previous. "What did you find?"

"A shoe track," she said. "The containers had waffled floors. Under one of them the track was still visible. It's a boot by the size of ten and a half. A very common brand. You'll get it in every Army-shop."

Goren flipped through the pages of the report. "He hasn't left very much we could use," he said.

Bonasera shook her head.

"No. One of the officers who made the interrogations at the crime scene told us that someone used the crane. We examined it and have still to square the prints we found. Perhaps he was incautious there – but I would not count on it."

"I don't expect him making faults like that," Goren said. "Thank you nevertheless."

"You're welcome."

"He hasn't left very much at all," Eames said, when Bonasera had left. "Except of six bodies."

"Yeah," her partner answered absentmindedly. He laid the forensics report aside, took the folder with the short personal records of the six victims and spread them over the desk.

"They don't have much in common," he thought aloud twirling a pen between his fingers. "Not their profession, not their looks, not their age, not a gym or something like that all of them visited regularly."

"At least we don't have found it yet." Eames circled the desks to have a look at the records. She appreciated him for providing them – he, she knew, wouldn't need them to refresh his memories as he knew them by heart the first time he read or, in this case, wrote them.

"Maybe the similarity lies in their personality. As far as we know they were strong women. Theresa Perkins was a teacher, working honorary at an orphanage in her spare time. LeeAnn Patterson was a nurse and coach in a karate dojo. The third couldn't be identified until now. Patricia Douglas was an office assistant. She was engaged with a small independent theatre as an actress and assistant director. And Bridget Harrison shouldered three different jobs and still had enough power to help at a social table."

"The sixth victim isn't identified either, is she?" Eames asked.

Goren shook his head.

"I'm almost certain that he was disappointed with her behaviour." He leaned back in his chair. "When I was at the morgue, I had a closer look at her injuries. This mutilation… he must have done it after he has raped her. ME Bradley found hints of male DNA but he won't be able to nail someone with it because it's contaminated. He sent it to the lab but the result is not in this report here."

"Just the crime scene."

"Yeah. But I would guess that it will be bleach again."

Captain Deakins appeared beside their desks and they turned to him.

"I've just spoken with the Chief of Detectives," he explained. "He decided to leave the case in our hands for the time being. Captain Cragen offered his support in case we should need it later."

"Why don't we already work with Special Victims Unit together?" Eames asked. "The sexual assaults would be reason enough for them to take the case over."

"Well, he said that, as you have yourselves already worked in the case, it would be better to leave it with Major Case. We can ask for SVU's support any time. Any new leads? Something from this crime scene?"

"No."

Eames phone rang and she circled the desk to pick up the receiver. She scribbled something down and finished the call.

"This was an officer from the Central Park Precinct. He would like to talk with us personally."

"What does he want?" Deakins asked.

"Just that. Said that it refers to this case."

"Okay. Go ahead. Talk with him."


	4. Chapter 3

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hi, I'm glad you're sticking with me. And I'd like to welcome _FutureMrsStabler _(winks). Folks, you, too, can thank her for her review… she tipped the scales. Here's the next chapter.

**3**

**Central Park Precinct**

**86th St & Transverse Road**

"Detective Eames," Officer Garland greeted. "I'm glad that you're willing to listen to me. Don't get me wrong but I have no specific reason for my suspicions. I just want to be extra careful."

"Okay," Eames replied. "What is it?"

"This handbag. Someone brought it to the Dairy this morning." He pulled it out of his desk. "This could be blood, couldn't it?"

From the look the two detectives exchanged he could tell that he had to add something important. Now.

"Well, I remembered the order to report anything that could be connected with the string of murders directly to you… So here we go."

"We're here because of a handbag?" Eames inquired. She took the item in question up to have a look at it.

"Where was this found?" Goren asked, hiding his annoyance behind professionalism.

"Near the entrance at 69th Street," Garland answered. "That's what the lady at the Dairy told me. She just wanted to put it into lost and found but then she noticed the blood and showed up to give it to us."

He looked from one detective to the other and noticed Eames scepticism.

"You also think that the bag was just lost, don't you?"

"No one did say so." Eames watched her partner who was examining the bag now.

There was not much inside, just a book, keys, a thin blanket – no wallet, no IDs. There was something in the book. Goren opened it and saw that it was a photo put inside as a book-mark. He frowned just a little but Eames noticed the pinch at the corners of his eyes nevertheless. Something bothered him.

"We'll take it with us for Forensics," he said. "Thanks, Officer Garland."

It was only when they reached their car when Eames dared to ask.

"You looked at the photo as if you would know the woman it shows. Do you know her?"

"Just a nodding acquaintance," he admitted. "Let us check if she's at work."

"It's not our job to bring back lost handbags."

"I just want to see if she's fine," he said. In his features she could read his worries. "And not being abducted by a serial killer."

"Okay," she conceded.

xxx

**Alice's Bookworm**

**Sell & Purchase**

**Greenwich Village**

"Okay, here we are…"

From where they had parked Eames was following Goren along the sidewalk and stopped as he spoke. She looked up at the sign above the entrance and sighed. How was she supposed to get her partner back to work once they went through that door?

"Oh no," she whispered to herself.

He heard her nevertheless.

"What's the matter?" He followed her gaze. "Afraid you might not get me out of there?"

There could have been a grin on his face or amusement audible in these words but he looked and sounded serious and innocent.

She squinted up to him with a wry smile and gestured him to go ahead. Then she went in right behind him.

It was an old-stylish place with high wooden shelves standing as narrow as possible and loaded with books. Two easy chairs and a small table squeezed between the shelves into the corner at the window.

Eames could not even step properly inside because she would have run into her partner's big frame. She rolled her eyes as he scanned the rows.

"You can do this in your spare time," she grumbled and hit his shoulder. "C'mon, Bobby Balthasar Bux, don't get lost here."

He turned to hide his embarrassed grin, especially because he noticed that she remembered The Never Ending Story he had given to her as a Christmas present two years ago.

"Bobby!" a surprised female voice came from behind another shelf. "Unusual time for you. Wouldn't you be on duty?" A woman in her fifties came down the aisle.

"I am," he answered and briefly shook her hand. "Cat, this is Detective Alex Eames, my partner."

"Hello, Detective Eames. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too... Catherine?"

She blushed a little. "Alice. Cat comes from the Cheshire Cat."

"Alice in Wonderland?"

"Yes." She frowned at Goren but with a small amused smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I thought we might meet Linda here," he said.

Alice's mood quickly changed to worried. "She's not here. She was expected to open the store but she didn't come today."

"Do you have an idea where she might be?"

Alice shook her head. "No. I called her at home but I didn't get an answer. – I already wondered if something could have happened. Normally she's reliable. At first I thought she was late because of Jamie, her daughter. But then… she would have called if she was just late."

"This is Jamie, isn't she?" Goren asked, showing Alice the photo of both, the woman and a child, he had found in the book.

"Yeah. These are Linda and Jamie. I took this picture. We were in Central Park. Where did you get this?"

"Her handbag was found in Central Park."

Alice gasped. "Is everything okay?" she breathed.

"That's what we want to check. Can you give us Linda's address?" Eames inquired.

"Of course I can… Come with me to the office? I have to look it up, because I always mix up the house numbers."

And she strode down the aisle to her small office, the two detectives in her wake. Eames hardly could resist the urge to grab her partner's tie to make sure he was following, too. A look at him showed her that he was scanning the rows of books again as he went by.

"Perhaps you'd like to come back later to look these through," Alice suggested to him and pointed to several boxes filled with books, most of them hard-covers. "They're from the dissolution of a household."

Goren definitely was interested. Quickly Eames took hold of his arm to stop him.

"No, Mr. Bux," she teased. "We have a job to do."

The doorbell jingled.

"Just a moment. I'll be right back." Alice turned and went back to the shop. "I'm coming!"

xxx

Sam and Jack looked briefly around when they entered the bookshop and the doorbell jingled.

"I'm coming!" a lady shouted.

Both agents viewed her as she approached. She was petite, about five foot two, and her thick brown, graying hair waved down on her shoulders. She wore black denims and a modern, black-based but colorful stitched blazer over her white t-shirt.

She, too, scanned the tall, slim woman in a dark business suit and her companion. He also was tall but not as tall as Bobby. Though he looked stern he also had something soft in his gaze, matched by the hint of a smile on the blond woman's face. The man wore an anthracite suit over a light camel shirt. It made him look quite official.

_You could say he's attractive if there were not his attitude, _Alice thought_. And whatever a suit he wears he'll never look as good as Bobby…_

She wanted to address the both of them as customers when her thoughts were cut off by the badges the two were flashing.

"How can I help you?" she asked them, her guard coming up.

"I'm Agent Malone, this is Agent Spade," he said in a soft, calming voice. "We'd like to talk with you about Linda Montagnolo."

"She's working here, isn't she?" Sam added.

Alice frowned. "Yes, she is," she confirmed. "But I haven't seen her today. Is she in trouble?"

"We're not sure yet," Jack explained. "Her sister reported her missing."

"She's missing?" Alice remembered the lost handbag. "Since when is she missing?"

"Since round yesterday noon," Sam said. "Perhaps you can help us. Did she tell you if something was bothering her?"

"You don't really mean, she ran away, do you?" Alice's voice rose in anger. "She wouldn't leave her daughter. Not for any reason."

"That was not, what Agent Spade meant, Ma'am," Jack tried to calm her down. "Probably she felt stalked or something like that. Did she tell you anything?"

Alice searched her mind but could not remember something that fitted the description.

While she was thinking, Jack noticed a similar petite but blond woman coming down the aisle. She looked somewhat familiar but he did not know why. Then, her name came to his mind when he saw her badge, clipped on her belt.

"Detective Eames," he said, not quite able to hide his surprise. Even more he wanted her not to see that he had the indefinite feeling that her partner was here, too - as it was to be expected.

"And you are…" Eames demanded to know. She had heard him referring to the woman as Agent Spade but did not know his name.

"Agent Malone," Goren said, approaching from behind of her.

Jack looked up beyond Eames and swore inwardly as he saw the frown on the detective's face.

"Will you tell me the reason why we meet FBI-agents of the missing persons squad here?" Goren asked. "Or will you resort to excuses?"

Now Jack clearly remembered why he was not glad at all to meet the major case detective.

"I don't see any reason to do the latter," Jack replied. "Linda Montagnolo was reported missing by her sister."

"Oh. And her sister ran directly to your squad?"

"She went to the next precinct first but the cops told her that it was too early to release a search for her, because she was just missing for several hours."

"Which precinct... ?"

"The nineteenth."

Goren glowered at him. "We will clear up later, why neither the precinct nor you have thought about informing us," he said. "As I have sent an e-mail to you personally requesting exactly that."

It was all Jack could do not to lose his temper. In the same instant he realized that he had honestly forgotten about this respective mail, and did his best not to blush. He hated being caught off-guard like that - in front of civilians and especially in front of inferiors, even though he did not look upon Sam as that - it undermined his authority. He glanced at the woman he had been questioning, but she did not seem to notice.

"As a matter of fact there is nothing concerning this case that might interest you," he finally said.

"And it's you to decide?" Goren growled, leaning in on Jack the same unnerving way he did with suspects to force eye-contact, his face just inches away from the special agent's. "You should know better than to ignore profiles."

Sam, on the other hand, was taken aback by the way this detective reprimanded her supervising agent. She did not know about the said e-mail but she knew Jack well enough to figure out that he was pissed.

Goren raised his eye-brows as repetition of his latest question. "You lack an answer, or you don't care?"

"I doubt that Agent Malone forgot on purpose to inform us," Eames jumped into the breach to avoid the men to clash. "He just wanted to clarify some details first. Am I right, Agent?"

Sam acknowledged Eames' diplomacy. She could imagine that it was not easy to cope with such an extrovert partner. Before she was transferred to Jack's squad she had known an agent who could be just the same.

"We did not want to jump the gun before we did not have said details," Sam took on Eames' lead. "Agent Malone is very conscientious with that. It was also possible that Miss Montagnolo was just delayed by unexpected affairs."

"But she has not shown up at home last night, has she?" Alice asked. "Nor has she come to work this morning. What do you think might have happened to her?"

The honest concern in the woman's questions brought everyone back to reality.

"We don't know yet," Goren conceded, even though he had a very special suspicion. "Did you probably notice someone who watched the store? Some new client who dropped in regularly?"

"Like a stalker?" Alice adopted the choice of words of Agent Malone. "No. There was no one who seemed to be specially interested in Linda. And there was no one interested in the shop either. At least… as far as I can tell."

"Do you know a Mr. Francesco Giambone?" Sam asked.

"Frank? Yeah, he was Linda's fiancé. But that's some time ago. I haven't seen him since they've split up."

"How was their relationship?"

"At first… good. Later it became frosty, then icy. They split up and he was never seen again."

"If they would meet now…" Jack began, "would they get along well or might there be…"

"You want to know if he could be responsible for her disappearance?" Alice cut him off sharply. "No, I don't think so." She glanced at Goren. "I'm not dumb, you know. And I'm a good friend of Linda's. Frank might not have approved what Linda has done for her sister and he might have been hurt – and jealous – when she decided to do it… But he won't hurt her in any way. They estranged from each other because of the kids and that's all. They're both living their own lives and he won't touch her!"

"What did she do for her sister?" Eames asked softly.

"Carolina desperately wanted kids but… Well, Linda gave birth to two girls for her."

The two agents exchanged knowing glances, as Goren noticed with renewed annoyance.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Jack said. He offered her his card. "You can call anytime."

Reluctantly Alice took and pocketed it.

Jack glanced at her and Goren. _She'll rather call him_, he thought. He nodded to the detectives and left the shop, Sam right on his heels.

"Will you call me?" Alice asked Goren who was about to follow the agents.

"As soon as I know something reliable," he said. Eames smiled at Alice encouragingly before they both left, too. She was certain that his words were meant honestly sincere… with a small backdoor to retreat.

"Malone!" Goren yelled.

_He doesn't even call him agent_! Sam thought. _Jack will have his badge_.

Slowly Jack turned. He did not bother to try and hide his anger.

"Do I have to write an official request and wait three months and several corpses until I get an answer or can we talk about the case now?" Goren asked.

"You're walking on really thin ice, Detective," Jack replied. "I could dump your ass before you even know it."

"Why? It's a legitimate question."

_He looks like an oversized, defiant six-year-old._ Sam studied the six-foot-four tall Goren's somewhat boyish features. _But that's the wrong impression. This detective is not to be underestimated._

"However legitimate it might probably be… It was asked in a very disrespectful way I won't tolerate," Jack said.

"Then let's try and find out how tolerant your superiors are, learning that you hinder major case investigations." Goren was not willing to retreat. With a short step forward he entered Malone's personal space.

Eames suspected that he had just started and fervently thought about how to stop him. Yet, Goren lowered his voice, considering they were out on the streets, leaning closely in to the agents face.

"We have a serial killer on our hands. I won't accept excuses when a quick and complete co-operation could possibly save one of his victims."

Sam observed Jack, saw his rage grow in his eyes and waited for the explosion.

"I will never…" Jack's voice was hoarse with rage and barely audible, "…never knowingly endanger a person out of departmental rivalry. How dare you accuse me to even think about that." He returned the piercing stare with the same vehemence. "There's not a single hint about Montagnolo's disappearance that suggests the interference of a third party. Feel free to dig deeper, but don't make the fault to cross my path again."

"A blood stained handbag is no sign of a possible abduction?" Goren simply said.

"We don't have such an information," Jack replied.

"Then you should consider to use all resources. The officer with Central Park Precinct called us just because of this bag. – So much about co-operation."

Jack did not answer. Goren's features softened and his tension lessened as he slightly leaned back. When he spoke again he did not sound angry but hoarse with worry.

"When did her sister report her missing?" he asked.

"Yesterday afternoon," Sam said. "She was supposed to meet her sister at five p.m., and Mrs. McCarthy reported her missing around eight p.m."

Goren's voice almost was a whisper now. "Was there a lead to Central Park?"

Sam nodded.

"Then you've probably wasted fourteen hours." It was no accusation, just a statement. He felt defeated. He imagined the young bookseller he knew violated by the killer.

Jack turned to leave and Sam followed him.

Goren felt Eames at his side. It was just a light, innocent touch of her shoulder against his arm, as if she had just brushed it by passing by. But it reassured him of her presence.

xxx

"Well, let's have a talk with the officers at the 19," Eames suggested. "Then we could question Linda's sister and have a look at her apartment." She looked at Goren who still stared at the backs of the leaving agents. "And then _I_ will summarize our information, cause _you_ will be busy with Deakins who will chew your ass when we get back."

He turned to her with that look she could only classify as _lost-puppy_.

"You look this way at the captain, he will certainly suspend you." She smiled wryly. "I won't help you because you deserve it."

"How can you be so cruel."

"That's your own doing… you have to face it." Eames began to walk back in direction to their car. "So, this lady is the Cheshire Cat…" she wondered aloud, trying to lift up his mood.

"Yeah. It's just a joke between us."

"I took it like that. I just wonder who you will be… the Caterpillar?"

Goren froze in his tracks. When Eames turned to look back at him, she saw him blush, violently.

"Is it a character out of Alice in Wonderland ?"

She did not expect him to blush even deeper as he already was but that was exactly what he did.

"Who… ? The Rabbit?"

Tentatively he shook his head.

"Who then?" she insisted to know.

He swallowed... and really looked embarrassed. "The Mad Hatter."

Eames laughed out loud. "The Mad Hatter?! She seems to know you better than I realized."

His gaze turned sour. "Thanks for this remark… Queen of Hearts."

"You're welcome."

Still laughing, she took the lead back to their car, taking care to keep enough distance to him before she spoke again. "Off with his head," she yelled in mock rage, favouring him with a smirk and pointing at him.

For a second he looked startled, before he burst out with laughter, too.

* * *

A/N: Whoa, that was difficult. I wrote the beginning and the end of this chapter first because I got stuck when Jack and Sam entered the bookshop. I knew what kind of situation I wanted to create between Goren and Jack, but I could not figure out the dialogue…

**PLEASE** review!!! (**All kind** of criticism might be helpful.)


	5. Chapter 4

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

**4**

**Jacob K. Javits Federal Office Building**

**FBI-Field Office**

**Manhattan**

Sam added new dates to the timeline on the whiteboard.

"This isn't going to help a lot," Viv remarked.

"Not really." Sam suppressed a yawn. She had had a bad night. "I wonder if MCS might be right."

"You have contacted the major case squad?"

"No, we met two of their detectives when we were questioning the owner of the bookshop Linda Montagnolo is working at."

"And they're working the same case?" Martin asked.

"Not exactly. They are working the case of the serial killer who was on the news again yesterday night. A cop contacted them who found Linda's blood stained handbag."

"Yeah, and it is female blood, most likely hers," Jack stated, rejoining the group after he had finished his phone call. "It still has to be compared with the DNA-sample we got from her apartment."

"So what now? We also take into account the serial killer lead?" Martin asked.

Jack was silent for a moment. "It would not do any good to ignore it."

"Who's leading the case with major case?" Viv demanded to know.

"Detectives Eames and Goren." Jack rubbed his temples. "We met both of them in this bookshop."

"Do you know them?"

"Superficial. We met once or twice, especially at court."

"Goren is an impressive appearance. I can't remember having met him before," Sam said. "How long is he with MCS?"

"For four years, I guess," Jack answered. "And I'm surprised that you don't know him. He has quite a reputation."

"Really?"

"Yeah. For being a pain in the ass. He's an oddball. Word is that he has a genius IQ but that doesn't change anything. Yet, he almost ended up to be an agent."

"But he isn't. What happened?" Martin demanded to know.

"When he attended a seminar at Quantico, he obtained top results. That's why BAU tried to recruit him"

"Then he would be with Gideon now, wouldn't he?"

"He could, but he didn't want to leave the PD."

"I wouldn't have either if I were with MCS."

"He wasn't. He was with Narcotics at this time. But it was obvious that he has his reservations concerning the Bureau. Then he was transferred to MCS. Rumour has that he's driven crazy more than nine detectives within eight months before he was partnered with Eames. Now she's stuck with him."

"I wasn't under the impression that she's _stuck_ with him," Sam said. "The two of them seem to have a very special partnership."

Jack frowned at her.

"And I don't mean _this_ kind of relationship," Sam added. "They are a fine team."

"And as much as I heard," Danny threw in, "their solving rate is the best of MCS."

"He almost is a closer," Jack admitted. "Yet, I'm not interested in working with him."

"That sounds like you made bad experiences," Viv tried to dig deeper.

"Well, actually it wasn't me, who did." Jack glanced at his colleagues in turns. "Do you know about John Hampton?"

"Arrested for abuse of authority and murder," Viv stated. "Sentenced to what…. fifty years?"

"Yes, that's him."

"Who is John Hampton?" Sam asked. She never had heard of him.

"Former FBI-agent. He was undercover, leading a sting-operation against the Genovese family when he was involved in a murder investigation. As it turned out he had compromised a young woman whilst in his role as mobster. He was accused of having murdered her dad to keep him from telling his superiors."

"So, Hampton went to trial and was convicted…"

"And Goren was the one who nailed him."

"And that's the problem?" Sam wondered aloud. "You would have done the same. No one likes a corrupt officer or agent."

"It's not as simple as that. We never had a good start. He has a special something that makes me… I don't know… I just could run up the walls…"

"His former partners must have felt the same way," Martin suggested.

"You're trying to be funny?" Jack asked. His furrowed forehead told everybody that he did not consider that as funny.

"We still have to find Linda Montagnolo," Viv stated, bringing the men back to the subject. "Regardless if we have to deal with the PD or not."

"In the case it turns out that Linda was, in fact, taken by this killer," Jack said, "this is no longer a missing person investigation. We won't be assigned to the case anymore."

_That's it, Sam thought. You don't want to lose the case to this guy._ Suddenly she remembered that Jack once had told her that he had applied for BAU several years ago, before he took over the missing persons squad. _Did you attend the same seminar, _she wondered,_ and had not been the one they were interested in?_

xxx

**in front of 19 Precinct**

**153 East 67th Street**

"Did you really expect the officer to be heartbroken?" Eames asked. "To achieve that you should have treated him like a suspect."

"I thought I did," Goren replied.

"No. You seem to have one of your forgiving days." She chuckled. "Or was it all consumed by the Feds?" He did not answer that. One look at him told her that he wouldn't, even if she waited forever. His inner barriers went up. Eames knew that there was no way to get past them, not even for her. "What now? Are we going to talk to Linda's sister?"

It did not take them long to get to the apartment. A young woman about twenty years opened the door and the detectives showed her their badges.

"If you would excuse me for a second," the woman said. She stepped aside to let the cops in and motioned them to a room across the hall. Light footsteps could be heard and when the detectives looked around at the woman a young red haired girl clung to her leg. "I'll go get Mr. McCarthy."

Goren squatted down, grinning at the girl. His brown eyes sparkled playfully. "Hello," he said. "I'm Bobby."

"Who are you anyway?" Eames asked.

"I'm Sharina Johnson. I'm with the McCarthy's as au-pair."

Goren made a face and tried to tickle the girl. She giggled happily and grabbed for the coin Goren snatched out of thin air.

Eames smiled inwardly though she kept her features professional. This trick often gained him the attention of children. He did so well with them._ Maybe it's the child inside of him_, Eames thought.

Sharina looked at him suspiciously, before she went to look for her boss.

"What's your name, honey?" Goren asked the girl.

"Jamie," she gurgled cheerfully. Then she ran away towards the children's room.

Sharina had left the detectives waiting in a comfortable but somewhat anonymous looking room with two sideboards, a large painting just above one of them, and two sofas facing each other over a low table. Goren was instantly attracted by the gallery of photos standing on top of the other sideboard. He was studying them when McCarthy came in. Obviously this man had no need to work – he let his employees keep the business going – because he was in a light cotton suit, stained with colour Jamie had spilled on him.

"Mr. McCarthy," Eames began. "We are the Detectives Eames and Goren. We'd like to talk about your sister-in-law, Linda Montagnolo."

"I have to admit that I'm surprised to meet you, detectives," McCarthy replied. "When Carolina went to the cops yesterday nobody wanted to pay attention. So she had to go to the FBI. And now even the major case squad is interested?"

"You're surprised?" Eames asked.

"Major case is a high profile squad. You don't investigate simple missing person cases."

"You're a well known family," Goren simply stated. "This is your niece Jamie, right?" He held up a frame.

"Yes, she is," McCarthy confirmed. "So you're in this case, too. And now you need information."

"We always need information," Goren mumbled putting down the frame with Jamie just to pick up another. "Is this your wife? Linda's sister?"

"Yes, she is."

"And where have you been yesterday around 5 pm?" Eames cut in.

He frowned. "I was here, when Linda called. She told me that she would be late for her date with Caro. She did not tell me _why_."

"Great picture… Did somebody else call you?" Goren asked.

"Because of Linda? No."

Goren held up another photo of Carolina. "A superb shot. Who made it?"

"Consuela Delgado. She's a photographer, an artist, and a good friend of Carolina. Why is that important?"

"I just thought that it's a great photo." He shrugged apologetically.

Looking at the other shots Goren noticed that most of the pictures featured Carolina McCarthy, most of the others three young girls and just two Linda Montagnolo. Judging the way the photos were taken, the ones of Mrs McCarthy had been made by a professional, most likely the mentioned Mrs Delgado, while the others were snapshots. There was none at all of Mr McCarthy. He just appeared in two snapshots with the girls.

"You don't like being photographed?" Goren asked.

"It's not a matter of like or dislike," McCarthy answered. "Often I'm the one who proves not to be photogenic."

Eames knew the look her partner let wander from McCarthy to the photos and back. She also knew that he did not believe him.

"And you're absolutely sure you did not get a message?" he turned to McCarthy again, approaching him slowly. Holding his gaze the whole time, he studied the other man's features. "Extortion is a very insecure business. There are a million ways a kidnap victim can end up dead."

Eames held her breath. It was clear to her what he intended to do now, but this could go down the wrong way, too.

"How many kidnappings have you handled?" Goren pressed.

"There was no attempt to extort money from us." McCarthy rose his voice. "Nobody called, nobody sent a letter. What do you want from me, Detective?"

"I just want to make sure you won't do anything stupid just because you're worried." He cocked his head to the side, frowning. "You're really sure there was no attempt to contact you?"

"Yes, I am sure. Can we now concentrate on finding Linda?"

"We are the whole time." Goren's brows shot up and he backed off again. He circled McCarthy to return to Eames' side.

"For to approach the case in the right way we have to find the motive," she picked up his thread. "Your family is well known and you have money. Extortion would be a logical reason for kidnapping."

"They would rather take one of the kids, wouldn't they?" He shivered with the thought.

Both detectives exchanged a glance. McCarthy made a good point, but that they actually had children did not necessarily mean that a kidnapper would not take another relative hostage.

"Whoever it was might as well have taken your wife…" Goren stated, eyeing McCarthy suspiciously. What Malone had remarked as well as the photos did swirl through his mind all over again. Now he watched just a slight frown. "Or was it probably her who should have been taken?"

McCarthy turned crimson and straightened up to confront the detective.

"Detective Goren, do you do this often?" he asked, enraged. "Because I'm not the suspect, I'm Linda's worried relative…"

"Well, in the beginning we suspect everyone…"

"…until we can gradually exclude people," Eames concluded. "We would like to see Linda's apartment."

"If you could show it to us…" Goren said.

"…we won't need a warrant," Eames finished again.

Even more confused McCarthy stared at them in turns. He was stunned by the obvious supplement of the detectives. Something he had missed with his wife the last couple of years as he had to admit.

"Well, if that's going to help find her…" he said and turned for the hall. "Sharina!?" he called. "I'm with the detectives, downstairs at Linda's apartment."

"Okay," she replied.

McCarthy took the lead.

xxx

**a cellar**

**location unknown**

Linda's heart pounded wildly. When she woke up she found herself in a barely lit room, lying on her stomach and hands bound behind her back. Her feet also were bound.

She tried to look around, but could not see anyone. So she wriggled helplessly in fruitless attempts to free herself. The ropes which bound her wrists and ankles were tight and remained tight as much as she might strain against it.

With a distinctive thud a door closed. Linda heard footsteps. Then a pair of brown shoes appeared in her field of vision.

She lifted her head to look up at him. The man towering over her looked down at her in return. She would not have said that he was handsome, but he was not ugly either. He was a bit above the upper average.

_What a silly thought right now. He's kidnapped me!_

He knelt down beside her and took hold of her upper arm. Then he turned her onto her back, lifted her up and brought her to the wall. There he sat her down on the floor and untied her feet.

Linda was trembling violently. Even if she would not have been totally stiff because of the long time lying bound on cold concrete, she would not have been able to attack him. She had have to let him undo her other bondages, too. Then he forced her to stand up.

He turned her to face the wall, wound one rope around her right wrist and tied it to a ring let in into the wall. The same was done to her left wrist. Now she stood there, leaning against the wall with her front, arms spread above her.

That was when he began to cut away her clothes. When she was naked he went to another corner of the room, where he stored his stuff.

Once returned he freed the blazing red glory from the braid. He buried his hands in the rich mane and let his fingers run through it. Then he began to comb her hair.

xxx

**152 East 73 Street**

**Manhattan**

In comparison with the apartment of her sister's family, the one of Linda Montagnolo was pleasantly normal. Right behind the door were the first testimonies to the presence of a child, wooden bricks.

Both the detectives smiled, McCarthy on the other hand grinned widely. Goren already entered the living room, but Eames noticed the reaction of Linda's brother-in-law.

"She never was as tidy as Caro," McCarthy said, still grinning. "It became worse after our daughter was born."

Neither Eames nor Goren missed the _our_.

"You're Jamies father?" Eames asked.

He nodded. "I've already told the FBI-agents. But please don't tell Caro, unless it's absolutely necessary."

"She doesn't know that Linda's third child was also fathered by you."

"No. And she has not to find out, as long as it's avoidable." He rubbed the back of his nose. "Can you tell me what you're looking for?"

"Information about Linda. The more we know about a victim, the more we also learn about the criminal."

"O, yes, I believe I have heard about that. How do you call it again…?"

"Victimology," Goren replied absently.

He was studying a mirror hanging above a cupboard. The frame and part of the glass were covered with photos.

This made him smile a sad smile. The way the photos were presented here in this apartment was more personal and testified to a simple and perhaps difficult but happy life. Here were not only pictures of Linda and her daughter, but also of Carolina, Thomas and their little girls whose surrogate mother she had been. Between these Goren also found photos of friends and of Alice. One shot had been taken at the book shop and the two women stood each at one side of a very tall man, himself.

They had made a mock diploma for him as a regular customer. Both women made fun of him, because he sometimes prevented them from closing the shop in time. Well, with his irregular working hours he appreciated them for being generous concerning opening hours. So he had posed with them for this snapshot… and had not been seen there for perhaps a month until he could not resist to rummage about these well sorted shelves.

"Do you know her?" McCarthy asked.

"No," Eames, who stood closer to him, replied. She was a bit puzzled until she noticed that she was not the one he addressed.

Goren did not hear him. He still stared at the photo and his stomach began to rumble. As well as he knew that it was not, in any way, his fault, he felt guilty. In his position as police detective he was supposed to protect. And he felt as if he had failed her.

"Detective Goren?"

"What?!" he snapped, his voice carrying all the frustration and anger with himself.

"Forget it," McCarthy retreated at once. He remembered how Goren had accused him of holding back information… and therefore endangering Linda… and he became angry, too.

He watched the detectives search the apartment until they decided to have seen enough and locked the door behind them.


	6. Chapter 5

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: This chapter is for _Bammi1_ who asked for "trouble" and _FutureMrsStabler_ who will get "her" Elliot now.

**5**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

They had hardly entered the squad room when they saw Deakins step under the doorframe, glowering at them.

One look at his boss told Goren that he was in big trouble. One look at his partner told him that she would remain true to her word and not help him this time.

While Eames settled down at her desk he continued to the captain's office, bracing himself for the lecture he was going to receive.

Deakins slightly stepped aside to let Goren pass, glanced at Eames and then followed inside, closing the door. He went to his chair and sat down. Slowly leaning back he observed his star detective, who now sat in the chair opposite the desk and returned the stare with a look Deakins could not really describe. It was not the common puppy look he was usually presented with when Goren wanted to deflate a situation. It was something else and for the moment Deakins could not tell in which way he should interpret this.

"Captain?" Goren finally asked, his features changing to puzzlement.

"I just try to figure out what you want to tell me with this look," Deakins growled.

"Don't bother, sir," Goren said. "Eames just told me not to use the _lost puppy look_ and threatened to shoot me if I'd try to."

"Perhaps she'd better shot you _before_ you could butt heads with Agent Malone."

_Wham! There it was! So he _had_ called…_

Goren remembered Eames' remark this morning, mocking the _Queen of Hearts_: Off with his head!

"Do you have anything to say, Detective?"

"Is this a trick question?"

Deakins gasped. Then he stood, leaning forward with his hands on the tabletop. "Don't you think you've already pissed enough people today? NO? Then feel free to annoy me, too!" He drew a deep breath. "I was prepared to ignore the call from Agent Malone when I got a call from Mr. McCarthy! Did you or did you not accuse him to hinder the investigation by hiding information about a possible extortion?"

"And I thought we explained to him that this was usual procedure…" Goren trailed off due to Deakins' tirade.

"And don't you tell me that this was usual, because he was ready to get here with his lawyer, which I could prevent by promising him to have a serious word with you!" Deakins sat back down. "Now tell me about the FBI agents."

An awkward silence fell over the office.

"I was pissed," Goren admitted, trying to keep his voice even. "Malone's in charge of the missing persons squad and I've sent him a request to give us information as soon as a woman might be reported missing who could match the victim's profile in our case. And he failed to do that. Instead we've met him at the place where the woman, who owns the handbag we're called for to Central Park Precinct, was working."

The latter was news for the captain. "Any hints for an abduction?"

"Blood on the handbag - we gave it to CSU when we returned. And that she's reported missing by her sister. She went to Malone's squad yesterday evening."

There was still something else. Deakins could read it in Goren's eyes.

"What is it, Detective?"

"What is what?"

"There's still something bothering you."

He thought about that for a moment. "The missing woman, Linda Montagnolo, is working at a book shop," he finally told him. Deakins would catch the connection.

"You know her."

Goren nodded. "Fleetingly. Just like you know a person who sells you books."

Deakins locked stares with him again. This was not easy, but he himself was under pressure so that he had to do something. "You're on desk duty for the rest of the week," he said, watching Goren closely.

"What!?"

"One more word and it'll be suspension."

Goren swallowed what he was just about to say. He ground his teeth. For another minute or so they just stared at each other.

"Same case, another subject?" Goren asked when he thought that Deakins had calmed down enough.

"What is it?"

"I know what the Chief said, but I think we should really work with SVU together. Will you call Captain Cragen again?"

Deakins was surprised. It was unlike Goren to ask for another unit's support.

"Any trouble I haven't heard of yet?" he demanded to know, somewhat suspiciously.

"Not that I'm aware of." Goren shrugged. "I just think that… well, that SVU might also be pissed when they're excluded."

Inwardly Deakins was already grinning though he fought hard to keep his stern appearance.

_Goren takes precautions to save me from further trouble? If he believes that I will withdraw the desk duty, he's barking up the wrong tree._

"If you think it could help the investigation… Yes, I'll call Cragen."

"Okay."

"Anything else?"

Goren shook his head. He hesitated to leave the office, still hoping that Deakins would think his decision over. But he waited in vain. Just a moment before it became ridiculous he finally left to get back to his desk - to stay there the next four days.

xxx

When he stopped next to his office chair, Eames looked up at him across the desks. She saw his deep frown and the pained look in his eyes as his gaze rested on the tabletop.

"Is the case reassigned to Logan and Barek?" she asked and he shook his head.

"You'd like some coffee?"

"No." She just did not want him to run away to get it. He was about to retreat into himself. "We still have to look through her notes. And the reports have to be finished."

"You want something else? I could go to the next deli."

_Why is he so keen on leaving the office_, Eames wondered.

"Or you come with me?"

"We have a lot of work to do and I'd like to finish it before we call it a day." Something was wrong and she had to find out.

He circled the desks and stopped beside her.

"I'm getting a coffee. You're sure you don't want some?"

"Okay, Bobby, what is it?" She leaned back and turned to him. Looking straight into his face she forced him to answer.

And he really felt obliged to. He held her gaze for a moment. Then he blushed and looked aside.

"I… I'm on…" he trailed off. "I'm on… desk duty," he said barely audible and fled the squad room.

Sighing deeply and rolling her eyes in desperation she grabbed her jacket and followed him.

xxx

Even a visit at their favorite restaurant for late lunch could not brighten up his mood. Eames could understand him. At least she was convinced she could. It was not the prospect of staying at the office for the next days what bothered him. It was that he could not back her up when she went out to question someone.

Well, she was not supposed to go alone. She would take one of the other detectives of Major Case Squad with herself. Yet, she knew that he still would be worried until she was back safe and sound at her desk.

When they came back to finish their paperwork and to check on Linda's notes they saw a man sitting together with Deakins in the captain's office. Both detectives settled down at their respective desks and began to work.

Goren could not really concentrate. From time to time he glanced across to his partner who became absorbed in reading. Damn! It was his own stupid doing. But he could not hold back, he was too frustrated when he had to realize that Malone had forgotten to call.

_Now stop it, _he thought_. You won't change anything by brooding._

He noticed that Eames looked up, her glance directed to something behind him. When he turned he saw Deakins and the foreign man leave the office. They approached their desks.

"Detective Eames and Detective Goren," Deakins introduced. "This is Leland Kirkpatrick. He also has been a police detective, in Atlanta, Georgia."

"Now am a private investigator," the man continued. "I'm currently working for a missing woman's aunt. Well, actually she has been found."

"Who are we talking about?" Eames demanded to know.

He reached inside his jacket for to pull out a photo. "Julia Cornwell-Brooks. I hate to admit it, but I was a lousy investigator by not drawing the conclusion earlier."

When he handed the picture to Eames, she gasped. This young woman was their unidentified third victim.

"Bobby." She passed it to him across the desks.

None of them noticed the raising eyebrows of Kirkpatrick when Eames called her partner _Bobby_.

Goren studied the photo. "Why did you draw it now?"

"Well, Mrs. Cornwell hired me two weeks ago because she was under the impression that the police did not make any progress. She lives in Atlanta, where I also have my office. When I came to New York I checked Julia's social contacts, but she almost had none. She was working at a bar to finance her attempts to become established as songwriter. There were some regular customers I suspected to be responsible for her disappearance, so I followed these dead end leads, until I had the idea to check the victims of the series of murder."

"When she was working at a bar there had to be someone who missed her, who could have identified her, when her picture was in the news." Eames sounded incredulous.

"When I was talking with her boss, she gave me to understand that she would not watch TV and did not read the news. Her days would consist of work by day and work by night. The bar's open till wee small hours. She sleeps, buys her supply and stands behind the bar again."

"Are there other women working at the bar?" Goren asked.

"Yeah, but they did not notice it. They just thought, Julia would have quit without telling someone."

_New York_, Eames thought. _Too many people to even notice when one single woman vanishes and dies_.

"You should talk with these women, too," Deakins said. "Perhaps someone can remember something now. Thanks Mr. Kirkpatrick."

"You're welcome. May I come back to check if you got any news?"

"You know the procedures," Deakins answered, implying that he was not allowed to share information about current investigations.

"Well, thank you nevertheless, Captain Deakins," Kirkpatrick said with a small smile and a nod. "Detectives."

Then he turned to leave, slightly limping when he went for the elevator.

"Okay." Deakins reached a slip to Eames. "Here are the facts he's given me."

She had a look at it. As second on top of the list was the name of the bar and the corresponding phone number. She dialed.

"No one there," she stated. "Just the answering machine. They'll open at eight p.m."

Deakins did not miss the looks his detectives exchanged. No, he would not let his smile creep on his face now. Still, he was annoyed with Goren. He would not let show his amusement.

"Was anything else coming up?" he asked dryly.

"No. We still have to check on her notes, probably talking to someone she wanted to meet. Apart from that… a lot of paperwork."

"Okay, then we'll talk tomorrow."

Eames nodded her consent and turned back to Linda's notebook. Goren did the same with his forms.

Inwardly Deakins chuckled. They both looked incredibly innocent. When he returned to his office he allowed a small smile to twitch his lips, knowing quite well that Goren would call it a day a bit earlier than Eames, who would pretend to leave with another Detective. Goren would wait for his partner outside, to go for the bar, so that they could do the talking together.

xxx

**out on the streets**

**Manhattan**

He had watched them since he had come back to Manhattan. They had lunch at an Italian restaurant.

Still he could feel the silky softness of Linda's hair.

_Damn. I thought these two were smarter than the average. That's why the case had been given to MCS in the first place._

But still the third victim was unidentified and they were not anywhere close to finding out about Lindsay.

He did not blame Alexandra. She was smart and a real tough cop. But as much as he had heard about Goren so far… Well, they seemed to think that they had nothing else to do than to rely on the work their colleagues already had done. He had expected more. He had expected a real adversary.

_Perhaps they need a bit more encouragement…_

When he followed them from One Police Plaza to the bar where Julia had been working, he rolled his eyes.

_Still basic work. Nothing new. Damn._

He entered directly behind them and forced his way through the crowd hardly two yards away. When they managed to get hold of two seats at the bar he was so close that he could have touched them.

_If Alexandra's hair also smells as sweet as Linda's? _he thought and searched for a place in a corner booth.

It was stuffy and loud and all the people made it more difficult to keep an eye on the detectives who started with having a drink. Then Alexandra asked for the boss, because in the result of her question one of the waitresses signaled her and she came over to talk with the cops. When they were finished they had a chat with one of the girls, too.

Suddenly one of the guests chose a song on the jukebox that made the waitresses run wild. They jumped on the counter and began to dance. The crowd was cheering and clapping hands to the rhythm. Alexandra backed off in surprise. Her partner on the other hand just took his drink in his hand, so that it would not be knocked over by one of the boots. The petite blonde glanced at her partner and frowned a little at his open interest in the dancing girls.

_Time to go_, he decided.

Out on the streets again he felt his anger rise. Along came boredom and restlessness. He had to relieve it somehow. If he went back to Linda in this condition it might result in her death. And he still had planned some more for her.

Walking faster, never noticing where he went, he tried to get rid of his tension. It did not work. He had to do something else. Here, wherever here was, the streets were almost deserted at the moment. That was when he spotted the ideal target and he seized the opportunity.

xxx

**an alley in NoHo**

**11 p.m.**

"Where's the vic?" Detective Olivia Benson asked, when she strode from her car over to her partner.

Detective Elliot Stabler was waiting for her at the crossing of street and alley. He motioned with his head into the alley.

"He's lying back there, next to the dumpster," he answered.

"It's a guy?"

"Yeah." He looked a bit weary. Males were rare. It were mostly women who became special victims. "CSU's working the scene."

"And what are you doing?" she teased. "Just waiting for me?"

"Along with questioning possible witnesses like the ones who found him. Nothing so far." His normally bright blue eyes shone dark.

_He's worried about something_, she thought. "What is it?"

Stabler sighed. "Have a look at him," he said with an inviting gesture.

Benson went into the alley and circled the dumpster. She saw Sheldon Hawkes bowing over the corpse to examine something.

"Dr. Hawkes," she greeted.

"Detective." The former medical examiner got up to let her view the body. He just stood there and watched her.

Benson felt her stomach rise and fought it down. During her time with SVU she had seen a lot and this scene was one of the worst she had ever encountered. Now she knew why Stabler had waited for her.

The man, lying on his stomach, was badly mutilated. His clothes were torn to shreds and his whole body was peppered with stabs and cuts. His head bent sideways, the neck looked broken.

"There's something in his mouth," Benson said.

"Um… yeah," Hawkes confirmed. "His… um… genitals."

Benson looked at him, shocked. Her gaze flicked back to the victim, to Hawkes, the vic… She felt a comforting presence even though she was not touched in any way. When she turned her head, Stabler stood right behind her. _We don't get to pick the vic_, she thought. For a moment her gaze rested on his face and his slight frown of concentration. _I'm okay_, she projected with her small smile and stepped aside to view the scene from a different angle.

Hawkes proceeded with his task.

_What is this?_ Benson wondered when she observed the body._ What has his murderer jammed into his rectum?_

"I guess that he died not long before he was found, approximately two hours back," Hawkes said absently, more to himself. "Cause of death we'll find to be the broken neck… Everything else will have been done to him post mortem."

"What makes you so sure?" Benson asked.

Hawkes looked up at her in surprise. He had not noticed that he was speaking aloud. "Well, near such a busy street… I would have killed him first to keep him from screaming. – It's my guess. And Hammerback's job to find out for sure."

"ID?" Benson changed the subject.

"We found his wallet," Stabler told her. He got his notes out. "His name's Jack Dawson. A broker. Resident in Brooklyn."

_He's curt_, Benson noticed. _Not only due to professionalism but also to the situation_. She knew the reason. It was the thought that occurred to her in most of their cases, that she recognized herself in the victim. That was something she quickly learned to cope with when she worked the first crime scenes, as well as with the urge to puke. Yet, there was still a certain feeling that came to her when she saw a murdered and violated woman. Benson knew that Stabler felt with every victim as much as she did. Yet, she also knew that he was familiar with this special feeling, too, each time they had to deal with a male victim. Then he became a bit more silent than usual… and a bit more touchy.

"He was probably here for a drink after work," she said.

"Detectives?" an officer in uniform shouted. "We've found his car!"

The officer led them to a light blue Hyundai Tucson, parked two corners away. The offroader seemed to be brand new.

"Nice car," Benson said.

Stabler opened it with the victim's keys. Bowing inside he shone over the seats and the dashboard with his flashlight.

"Empty, except a few CDs."

The latter lay on the passenger seat. The glove-box was empty.

"He probably was on his way to someplace or he came from there…" Olivia shared her thoughts. "From here to the alley and then…?"

"I got a picture of him from his wallet," Stabler said. "Let's try to find out."

So they passed the alley and headed for the next restaurant in this direction. It was the fifth bar they entered where they got a hit.

"Yes, I've seen him tonight," the waitress confirmed. "You should ask Frances. He sat at one of her tables. Frances!"

Her colleague came to join them and had a look at the photo.

"Yeah, he was here."

"Was he alone?" Benson asked.

Frances nodded. "Yes. And I wasn't under the impression that he waited for someone. He had some drinks and fries before he left."

"Do you remember when?"

"Around nine, I guess. I can check the bill." Benson nodded confirmatively and Frances went for the cash desk. "Yeah, it was nine twenty-three."

_That's not much time ago_, Stabler thought. _The people who found him might as well have run into the murderer_.

"Was he still alone when he left?" Stabler wanted to know.

Frances thought about this before she shook her head. "He hasn't met someone. He just had his drinks and left."

"Okay, thank you."

Once out on the streets again, Benson turned to her partner. "What do you think?"

Still, there was the frown on his face. It had deepened a bit.

"That the killer was waiting for him or… that he was picked at random."

"The latter doesn't sound good."

"Sounds like an almost cold case before we had a chance to start."

"Then let's concentrate on the first scenario. Let's find a motive."

"Let's find it tomorrow. It's almost one in the morning."


	7. Chapter 6

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hi, thanks for the reviews, folks. And ooops, this with Jack Dawson really was a freaky coincidence. Now I know why this name sounded so familiar… :-) I've only watched "Titanic" once, accidentally. But did someone recognize the bar Julia was working at (hint: first part of the name is a mammal with long bushy tail, not a squirrel)?

**6**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"I'm glad the air condition's working well here," Eames said when she settled down at her desk. "It will be an awful hot day."

"Good morning to you as well," Goren murmured. "What do you like? Coffee or coke?"

"Something cold, no matter what it is." She shrugged off her light blazer which kept her weapon hidden. Looking at her partner she frowned. He still had his jacket on. "Expecting someone?"

"No." He stood and went to get the beverages.

Eames smiled thankfully at him when he arrived with the refreshments and handed one can to her. He also gave her a bagel with cream cheese.

_You want to bribe me to put in a good word for you? Deakins wouldn't be pleased…_

"Thanks, Bobby," she said aloud.

"Goren?" Speak of the devil and he will appear. "In my office."

"What have I done now?" he wanted to know when he entered close behind his captain.

"Bad conscience?" Deakins frowned. Goren returned it, shaking his head. "Something new after the talk with Miss Cornwell-Brooks' boss?"

If Goren was surprised he did not let it show. "No."

Deakins nodded.

"I just wanted to let you know that I have spoken with Captain Cragen last night. One of his teams could close two of their cases right now, so he will reassign their others and send us these two detectives for support. Make sure they'll have a place to work at and so on."

"Task room two?" Goren suggested.

"Fine with me. They'll stay with our squad for the time being, so this will be a good solution."

"Okay, sir," Goren agreed. "Then I will arrange everything."

"Thanks, Bobby."

xxx

**16 Precinct**

**Special Victims Unit**

Due to the temperatures Stabler already wore his jacket over his arm when he entered the SVU bullpen. He crossed the room to get to his locker and continued to his desk where he put the jacket over the back of his chair. One glance over to the next desk told him that Benson had not arrived yet.

"Elliot?!" Captain Don Cragen shouted out of his office just as Stabler began to roll up his sleeves. "Don't make yourself comfortable! As soon as Olivia's here I have to talk with both of you."

"Yes, sir," he replied slightly puzzled. "John?" he turned to Detective Munch. "Do you know…?"

"No," John cut him off. "But I already got the ME's report for your vic last night." He held the file up to him and leaned back in his chair.

Stabler took it to have a look at the results. "Broken neck," he mumbled. "Just like Hawkes told us. Well, it was quite obvious."

"That's the harmless part," John snorted.

"Multiple cuts and stab wounds, removed reproductive organs…"

"I mean where these were found."

"I know, I've seen it," Stabler grunted. His brows rose when he read the next part. "Raped with a bicycle pump…" He shook his head incredulously. "We're looking for a guy on a bike?"

Munch shrugged. "I guess it will be Fin's and my job to find out."

"What do you mean?" Stabler frowned at him. "We haven't even started and he's taking it away from us?"

Once more Munch shrugged.

"Don't talk too much!" Elliot teased, aiming at him with the folder. Then he let it fall on the tabletop.

That was when Benson entered the squad room. She was just about to sit down at her desk when Stabler yelled, "Don't!"

Puzzled she stood straight. "Why not? Is something wrong with the chair?"

Stabler grinned at her. "Captain wants to see us."

"At once?"

"As soon as you're in, he said."

A second later Cragen stood in the doorframe of his office looking at them expectantly. Stabler shrugged at Munch lopsidedly and turned to follow Benson. She sat down in one of the visitor's chairs while Stabler remained standing.

"I have to tell you that you won't continue with the Dawson case," Cragen opened the conversation. "You will finish your corresponding paperwork and hand it over to John and Fin. The same applies to the Patterson case and the Daley case will go to Garrison."

"May I ask you why?" Stabler looked at their boss curiously as well as annoyed.

"I was just about to tell you when I was interrupted," Cragen replied with a stern look at his detective. Benson also shot him a warning glance. He did not intend to apologize, as both of them knew.

"Well, for the time being you'll be on loan," Cragen picked up his thread again. "You won't have to come in here as long as you'll be assigned to duty at One Police Plaza."

"One PP?" Stabler was astonished. "Which squad?"

This time Cragen's look became threatening. Still holding his stare connected with Stabler's he picked up a yesterday's newspaper and placed it in the middle of his desk. "Major Case."

Both detectives looked at the paper when he was pointing to the headline.

**SIXTH BODY FOUND. POLICE CLUELESS.**

Someone had managed to get a good shot of the dark haired woman draped over the heap of sand. It almost filled the whole page.

"And we shall help them?" Stabler could not hold back. "Why don't they give the case to their wonder weapon?"

"You can ask Captain Deakins as soon as you've reported to him," Cragen growled. Now he was annoyed with Stabler. "But I guess that you will curb yourself towards him." He glowered at him. "At least I would recommend that."

Final call!

Stabler did not move and swallowed possible remarks.

"Now that I can see that we understand each other…" He shot Stabler one last look. "…you will finish your paperwork and go to One Police Plaza. Captain Deakins is waiting for you." He folded the paper and put it away. "I've promised our complete support. So, get moving."

"You don't have anything to say?" Stabler asked his partner as soon as they were seated at their desks.

"Why should I?" Benson replied. "You did all the necessary and unnecessary talking."

Stabler frowned at her. She bowed her head over the papers, not wanting to discuss this matter.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

It had been a silent ride from 16 Precinct down south to One Police Plaza. Now that they were in the lift, on their way to eleventh floor, Benson studied once more the face of her partner. Since Cragen had told them to finish the paperwork for their current cases to hand them over to other colleagues he hardly had spoken. He had scribbled so fast in the forms that she was afraid that the others might not be able to decipher his writing.

_Not my problem,_ Benson thought. _But if he's already in a bad mood when we meet the MCS detectives in charge of the case it will possibly be a similar bad start into the investigation._

By the look of him he was still brooding.

_Damn!_

The lift came to a halt. Showtime.

When the SVU detectives entered the MCS squad room they quickly noticed that the captain's office was abandoned. They stopped just outside the open door, looking around. From the far end of the bullpen a dark haired detective approached them.

"Captain Deakins will be right back," he said to them. "You're with SVU?"

"Yes, Detective Olivia Benson," she replied.

"Detective Mike Logan," he introduced himself. Glancing over his shoulder he noticed his partner closing in on him. "My partner, Detective Carolyn Barek."

"Hi."

The women shook hands.

"Detective Elliot Stabler," Stabler greeted both and shook hands, too. "You're the detectives in charge of the…?"

"No," Logan laughed out before Stabler could finish his question. "Just volunteering as welcome committee."

They exchanged some more small talk.

"There's the captain," Barek said and headed for her desk, dragging Logan along with her.

"Detective Benson, Detective Stabler. Come with me?" Deakins motioned them to follow into his office.

Both detectives took place in the chairs opposite his desk. Lightly leaning on the tabletop with his forearms, Deakins looked up at them.

"When Don told me that he would naturally agree to send us one of his teams, I have to admit that I did not expect to see you. I'm glad he was willing to do without his best detectives for the time being."

"You don't have to compliment us, just tell us how we can help," Stabler replied, before Benson could even open her mouth and she glowered at him.

Deakins watched them. The way they were communicating without to voice anything reminded him fairly of Eames and Goren. Obviously she was annoyed about his remark while he was not even aware of doing something wrong.

"No offence taken," Deakins said. "How much do you already know about the case?"

"TV, papers, rumours," Benson said.

"Well, my team just went to the lab to get some results. They'll fill you in on the details as soon as they are back."

"Captain Deakins," Stabler addressed him. "I hope you didn't get me wrong. I just was surprised to get to know this morning that we should abandon our cases for to co-operate with your squad."

"I know it was at short notice. The Chief gave the case to us when it turned out that the murders where connected. At this moment the sexual aspect was second-rate. That's why SVU didn't get the case."

"May I ask why we were called in now?"

"Well, actually that was my idea," someone said from under the doorframe.

When they entered, Eames sat down in the third chair while Goren passed them and hopped on the cupboard.

It was all Stabler could do not to show his surprise. He did not expect Goren and Eames to be in charge of this case and he certainly did not expect him to ask for support in any way. _Major Case's star detective called for help._ He could hardly believe it.

"What have you got from the lab, Alex?" Deakins asked her, because one glance at Goren told him that he should not speak to him right now.

"Greetings from the feds," Eames replied wryly. "CSU got a sample and information about a comparison test. The blood on the handbag really belongs to Linda Montagnolo, no foreign DNA, nothing else."

"Which agency do you talk about?" Benson asked. "FBI?"

"Yeah. Missing persons squad. The presumed last victim taken by this serial killer was reported missing, so that they were investigating, too."

"And they shared their results? Voluntarily?"

"I had a kind of heart-to-heart talk with their supervisor," Goren mumbled from his perch near the window.

_A kind of_, Stabler thought._ Is this why your captain seems to pierce you with every look he throws in your direction?_

"Any other information you gained from them?" he asked aloud.

Goren shook his head. "A whole lot of nothing," he said and continued to watch the traffic.

"We don't have much either," Eames told her colleagues. "I guess it would be best if we talk about it while having a look at the files."

She turned to Deakins and he nodded.

"Yes. Go ahead."

So she got up, ready to leave. Goren slid from the furniture and managed to reach the door first to open it for her. He let Eames leave first, then Benson and Stabler. They all followed Eames to the task room.

xxx

**unknown location**

_Lindsay managed to get the headlines on Monday morning. She had been on the late nite news on Sunday and still was on the news the whole Monday._

_Each reporter stated at least the one answer they usually got: No comment._

He chuckled.

_No comment_, he laughed. _The cops' way to admit that they have no clue at_ _all_.

Today he found another article, on page three, not very big but with photos. One was a snapshot of the crime scene and showed an alley in NoHo. In the background were the victim as well as cops and CSU techs, in the foreground stood a detective.

_Damn, they did not get his name. So he would not be the one in charge._

As he studied the pleasant, nevertheless marked features with the earnest, professional expression he marveled at the light, most likely blue, vividly sparkling eyes.

He cut the article out and glued it into his other diary. He always admired good handiwork.

_Speaking of good handiwork_, he thought. _Linda should be finished by now. I should be able to continue with her._

When he opened her prison a satisfied smile touched his lips. She sat on the floor, surrounded by newspapers. On these papers her work was spread for drying.

He noticed that she had drawn her red mane in front of her to cover her nudity. Like Lady Godiva. His smile became broader but it was nothing nice in it and it did not reach his eyes.

"You did this well," he praised her.

"A lot of practice," Linda answered. She tried to meet his stare. "Jamie, my daughter, she loves paint."

He did not react.

"Jamie's cousins, Carrie and Christie, they are the same. Jamie really enjoys to play with them." Still she could not observe any reaction, but he did not seem to be annoyed either. "Jamie really is cute. I could not be happier. I love being Jamie's mother. Do you have kids?"

"Is this of interest?"

_He wants to talk? Okay._ "Well, I'm just curious."

"I don't know if I have kids."

"That's the saddest thing I ever heard. When I think of losing Jamie… Jamie is my evening star. She loves me as much as I love her, I guess. Jamie is…"

His smile became vicious. "Stop babbling!" he ordered her. "Who taught you that?"

She looked puzzled.

"You really do use its name so often if you talk about your brat?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can't finish a sentence without to mention the brat's name. Do you have that from your favorite customer?"

"Who?" she asked, startled.

"Detective Goren. You made him a diploma. It's hanging behind the counter in the shop."

Linda just stared up at him.

"Did he teach you to use your brat's name if you ever should get in such a situation? And to emphasize its name as well as the fact that you're its mother?"

"I don't know what you mean!" she spat. Her anger wiped away her fear for a moment.

"I guess I'm supposed to identify with you… You're doing that for not to be impersonal for me. You think that I can't kill you if you make me feel for you and your brat."

He came over, grabbed her hair and pulled her up.

"Sorry to destroy your fantasies, honey, but that doesn't work with me. This psychology is too simple to affect me."

Still holding her hair he dragged her over to the wall and tied her to one of the rings. Then he got a cane and showed her how little he was affected by her trials.

He enjoyed her screams.

* * *

A/N: Your reviews and PMs already inspired me. You'll find out in the next chapter... thanks, _MaryT_! 


	8. Chapter 7

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Finished? Finished! This chapter is finished! Hooray! I can't believe it myself!

I'm so sorry it took so long. Concerning **_The Locust_** I had writer's block. Really sorry… But I guess it's better if I take my time to do it right instead of hurrying and ruining plot or dialogue. Bobby, Elliot and their partners deserve time to get them right… I hope I could do them justice. It would make me so happy if you could let me know by reviewing.

As I already mentioned at the end of chapter 6, the villain's part was inspired by a PM. Now it's sender also broke my writer's block so this chapter is for _MaryT_. _JO_ also was a big help.

**7**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"So what have you guys really got?" Benson asked when they entered room 1108-C.

"Not a hell of a lot," Goren mumbled. With an inviting gesture he presented the large table. "We don't have spare desks inside the squad room right now, so we organized two mobile drawers and phones for this room to offer you decent work conditions."

He went to the one wall which was covered with cork to serve as pin board. One third was covered with photos and information.

Stabler could not help but think that Goren sounded embarrassed. Due to the fact that there were no proper desks? That would be ridiculous. He also thought that the big detective moved as if he wanted to hide himself.

"We just could identify victim number three," Goren stated, fleetingly pointing at the corresponding picture.

"And number six," Logan's voice came from the entrance. He held out a piece of paper. "This just came in while you were with Deakins."

"So, who is she?" Eames asked, taking the page from him.

"Lindsay Davenport, worked at a drugstore…" His voice trailed off, then it took on a sarcastic tone. "Some people are unbelievable… Youth welfare identified her. One of their workers stopped by to check on the kids, because Davenport didn't show up at an appointment. She asked why their mother wasn't at home and the oldest girl told her that their mother had been on the news. Until then nobody noticed that it was her, who was found Sunday night."

The two SVU detectives exchanged glances. Raising eyebrows, frowns… they seemed to share their own opinion on this matter.

"What do you think?" Logan did not bother to ask them. "You think that's normal?"

"Only that they noticed it early," Stabler growled. "It could have been later."

"They are overworked, too," Benson added. "The best intentions but too few workers."

"The kids are at one of their homes now, I guess?"

"Yeah," Logan confirmed Stabler. "They are searching for their aunt."

"How many kids?" Benson asked.

"Five."

"Then they'll better find her." With a sigh Benson dropped in one of the chairs.

"What do you mean?" Eames asked, really curious.

"Because they'll have to stay at the home otherwise," Benson told her.

"Or they'll be split up in different families, by adoption or in foster care," Stabler added.

Eames glanced at Goren. He pretended to be absorbed by the pin board, but she suspected that he listened to everything. _Must revive memories_, she thought.

Actually it did, but Goren also was reserved to participate in the brainstorming.

"So we'll have two apartments to check. CSU's already working at Cornwell-Brooks' place," Goren said. "Eames? Why don't you go there together with Benson? Barek and Logan could take over the one of Davenport."

"Okay," she conceded.

Benson got up again and joined Goren, looking at the wall.

"The posture is always the same," she murmured. "But he's developing a sadistic streak, I guess."

Goren nodded. "Except of Davenport."

"Yeah," Stabler said. "Looks like he was in a very bad mood. If she enraged him somehow?"

"I think so, yes."

"So, we're going to her apartment now. Right?"

"Yes." Eames was already standing under the doorframe. "I'm ready."

"So am I." Benson turned on her heels and followed Eames out.

"Okay. Barek and I are also gone, then," Logan announced and left, too.

Stabler still stood where he had stopped when they came in. Frowning he stared first at the wall, then at Goren and finally at the stack of files that balanced on the edge of the table. Inwardly he was already fuming again. He had been determined not to judge only by reputation if they should meet Goren. Now they should work with him and his partner. They had not done as much as to say hello so far and he already thought about calling out sick.

_You have any problem?_ Goren wondered but did not dare to ask. He sensed that Stabler was in a bad mood and did not want to worsen it.

The SVU detective just stared back at him.

It answered Goren's question better than any word could have done. _You don't have to say something_. Goren mused. _The look you gave me in Deakins' office was sufficient, and this one is not any better._

Stabler was frowning even deeper. "So… you ordered my partner to leave with Eames to be alone with me?"

"I… no, I… t'was no order. I made a suggestion." The look he got from Stabler now did nothing to calm him. If anything he was even more nervous. "Well, hm…. as much as I know you've got seniority in your partnership," he tried the flight forward. "You ever tried to order Benson to do something?"

_She would cheerfully shoot me_, Stabler thought.

Goren nodded at his changing expression, an alarming glimmer in his brown eyes.

"So what?" Stabler snapped. "What are we going to do now?"

"The connection," Goren tried to explain. Stabler's aggressiveness had put him out. "We're still searching, you know, between the victims. As you have to work yourselves in the case anyway, we really would be appreciating it if you could check for any hints there." While he was talking he retreated towards the door. He had to squeeze himself past Stabler, but the other detective did not move an inch.

Stabler's gaze returned to the files. Six cases meant six times the personal record of the victim, report of CSU, report of the ME, statements… He could not help a sigh.

"Well, the first four murders were investigated by different homicide squads. Fresh eyes probably see something we've missed so far," Goren murmured hastily, already halfway through the door. "I have to make some phone calls right now. Don't bother to interrupt me if you should have any question."

Stabler could hardly understand him. And, if he was honest to himself, he did not really trust this offer. He was irritated by the behavior of his fellow detective. His reputation was one of a witty but annoying man who controlled and manipulated the minds of suspects so well, that he got confessions almost every time he was interrogating. But towards him, Stabler, Goren seemed to be reserved, almost shy.

With his eyes Stabler followed Goren on his way to his desk, then he sat down at the table and reached for the first file.

xxx

"Any special reason Goren asked us to work together?" Benson wanted to know when they were on their way to the apartment.

Eames did not turn to her because she had to keep an eye on the traffic. "I don't think so," she said, though she had her suspicions.

"When was it exactly you took the case over?"

"Almost four weeks ago. We were called in when the fifth victim was found."

"And there was no lead so far?" Benson sounded incredulous.

"Do you allude to something special?" Eames asked instead of an answer. "Any prejudices you're trying to get served?"

"You don't need to snap," Benson defended herself. "It was just a question. You don't have to get all protective."

"The only ones I have to protect are the citizens of New York," Eames replied.

"I can imagine that you often meet more aggressive colleagues."

"More ignorant, you wanted to say."

"As long as I don't know someone I try and don't judge him. It's essential for our job, don't you think?"

"Must be this job that makes me distrustful," Eames conceded. "We don't know each other, just our respective reputation, so… there's plenty of room for speculations. And I know there are a lot of rumors circulating about us, especially Goren."

"Speaking of your partner… may I ask you something?"

Inwardly Eames rolled her eyes and sighed. Now it would come. "Why not." _If you don't necessarily expect an answer…_

"Have you really made bad experiences with colleagues? I mean, are there people who treat him bad… or you because you stick by him?"

That was not exactly what Eames had expected and she was cautious. "Other than rumors?"

"Yeah."

Eames thought about this carefully. "I witnessed one incident. There had been one detective who mistreated him verbally. He has left the squad some years ago." She hesitated a moment. "Tell me the most popular rumor."

"I guessed you'd know several of them."

"Tell me nevertheless," Eames insisted.

"Do I really have to tell you that most believe him to be a nuthead?"

"No." Actually Eames was fed up with hearing this. "What do you think?"

"Personally I don't know him at all. Ask me in a couple of days again."

Well, Eames could live with that. She left it at that. Soon enough, she suspected, she would find out what Stabler's opinion was.

"Second is that you're more than just partners," Benson continued.

"Well, I can't deny that," Eames confessed. "I never will find a more faithful friend than Bobby."

She met thoughtful silence. A glance at her colleague showed her that the SVU detective zoned out.

"That's something I can identify with," Benson finally said. "I would describe my relationship with Elliot in the same way."

Eames let out a breath she did not know she was holding. Benson made the first big step to understanding. _And that must have been the reason why Bobby asked us to work together: to let us develop a connection… from woman to woman._ She smiled.

"Did I say something funny?"

"No. I just reacted to my train of thoughts."

"You know, often we're also said to have a romantic relationship," Benson laughed. "So we're not so different after all."

Eames joined in the laughter. When she spotted a parking space, she quickly occupied it. They got out and went to the house where Julia Cornwell-Brooks had used to live in a small two room apartment.

xxx

Back at the office Stabler was brooding over the files. As usual his jacket hung on the backrest and after half a hour also his sleeves were rolled up. Another quarter later he leaned back as far as the office chair allowed and he became a bit more relaxed.

When he spotted something he sat up and looked out of the room through the glass wall to see if Goren was at his desk. His MCS colleague was still on the phone, or again. Uncertain if he really should disturb him, he remained seated and took the liberty to watch for a while over the rim of the file in his lap.

His temper had cooled down again, yet, he was not in the mood to try and make friends with Goren. Once more he reminded himself that he did not want to believe rumors. But from the moment he laid eyes on the detective his animosity grew and Goren's move to _suggest_ that their respective partners should work together only reinforced it.

In the meantime he also doubted his first impressions. Goren's small signs of modesty and reserve struck him as arrogance.

Finally he got up and went over to Goren. Standing against a pillar next to the desk he waited until his colleague finished his call.

"Perfect timing," Goren mumbled when he put the receiver down, taking last notes. "This was the last one. Shall we discuss the cases? Do you have questions?"

"I glanced over all the files and read the ones of Perkins and Patterson," Stabler replied. His anger was fuelled again, when Goren looked up now, surprise showing in his features. _Don't expect me to be so fast, or what?_

Goren glanced at his watch as he rose from his chair.

"I didn't notice that so much time has passed." He turned to Stabler. "Let's talk about the facts, I just make a roundabout route over the restroom." Already on his way out he called over his shoulder, "Shall I get you some coffee on my way back?"

"Yeah," Stabler grumbled and returned to his temporary office.

After a few minutes Goren was back with two mugs of coffee, steaming hot and smelling good. It also tasted good, as Stabler recognized when he sipped at his.

"Thanks," he said.

Goren just nodded absently. He placed his own office chair, that he got after bringing in the coffee, at the side of the table, and sat down astride. Then he picked up a file and read in it.

_Am I supposed to start the conversation or shall I wait_, Stabler wondered as he watched him.

It took a while until Goren noticed that they were not talking with each other. When he glanced up from the record he looked slightly puzzled, what made Stabler frown again.

_He's not Eames_, Goren had to remind himself. _Damn. She would have started without second thought about me following, knowing that she would have my attention once she's talking. I can't assume that he'll do the same._

"Are you still on this planet?" Stabler asked, his annoyance clearly audible.

Goren's expression changed to confusion.

"Did you expect me to speak to empty space?"

Now Goren grimaced. _Once more fuel for the rumors_, he thought._ So much about good intentions…_

An embarrassed smile followed which made him look boyish. "Force of habit. Go ahead, if you don't mind."

Angry as he was, Stabler had almost forgotten what he wanted to talk about.

"At first sight these women are quite different," he said.

"Yeah. We already thought about their character being the connection. They are all very strong and independent," Goren explained. "Yet, there is nothing what could tell us how he's selecting them."

"The first two might have known each other. Patterson was working at the practice Perkins was consulting. As the third victim had not been identified until yesterday, you don't know yet if there are any connections between them, right?"

Goren nodded. "Douglas and Harrison don't have relations to the first two victims. At least we haven't found any. We can't tell anything about Davenport either."

"What do you know about Cornwell-Brooks so far?"

"She was working at a bar. She also sang there to entertain the guests, was dancing on the counter."

"Did Perkins visit this bar?"

"Not as far as we know, but I would not exclude it."

"What about Douglas?"

Goren shook his head. "No one has ever seen her there."

"What was it what she did for a living?"

"She was an office assistant. In her spare time she was an actress at a small independent theatre. She also was assistant director there."

Stabler rushed his hands over his short hair.

"That's getting us nowhere," he complained. "The guys from homicide went into the totally wrong direction by suspecting Perkins' ex. No one thought about these murders as part of a string until the fourth victim was found. So the information about the women are not detailed enough to tell if there might have been a stalker for example."

That made Goren look up. Stabler made a point, a point he was brooding over since they had been assigned to the case. Together with Eames he had tried to dig deeper but it was too long ago. The apartments of the first four victims were emptied or already occupied by new tenants, the memory of co-workers and other nodding acquaintances sketchy, the victim's relatives were tired of answering questions and one family had even moved from New York to leave the tragedy behind.

It was safe to say that Goren had minor, up to major, problems with the work of his colleagues from homicide.

"The murders were committed in different precincts, so that the similarities in the modus operandi were discovered belatedly," he finally said. "When the conclusion was drawn that there might be a serial killer on the loose we got the case."

"Yeah. With a lot of cold leads."

"That's what you're saying."

"Well, if you'd have any clue you wouldn't have called us in," Stabler challenged.

Goren could not help to agree to this logic. A crooked grin found its way out which was returned by Stabler. The SVU detective on the other hand was under the impression that Goren had offered this turnout of the conversation on purpose, to release some of the tension between them.

"It's no shame in admitting to need help," he could not resist to tease. "That's why you asked for the best."

It sounded casually, but he eyed Goren carefully. If the MCS detective was annoyed he did not let it show.

_He obviously does not lack self confidence_, Goren thought. "Elite only works together with elite," he replied after a moment's hesitation even though it had not been his decision who to assign. He had silently hoped for Fin Tutuola.

For another moment they just stared intently at each other, still trying to find a base for their work relationship.

"Okay, back to the case," Stabler said. He did not retreat, though, just made clear that they had work to do, still holding eye contact.

They were still discussing the scanty background info about the women when the first two partners returned.

"You didn't get any further?" Logan interrupted them, coming into the office and dropping into a chair. "We already knew so much."

"Then tell us something new," Goren challenged.

"Give us just a minute. Eames and Benson are close behind us. They wanted to bring the coffee." Barek also strolled in, dragging an office chair along.

From the seat she took bags with scones and danishs to put them on the table and to sit down in her chair. Goren just had a look at both his colleagues and grinned.

"No air condition out on the streets," Logan grumbled, but could not quite suppress his own grin. "You're lucky to be stuck in here."

The harmless remark cast a shadow over Goren's face.

Not for the first time Stabler wondered if it really was voluntarily that Goren stayed in the office. He remembered that he had said something about a _heart-to-heart_ with a federal agent, a nice paraphrase for butting-heads. So most likely he was ordered to stay.

Right then the other two women came back, too. Benson put the coffee on the table.

"Hope we got it right," Eames smirked and began to distribute the cups.

"It's your responsibility. I just know him," Benson joked, nodding at her partner.

She handed him his cup and took her own to sit down in the last chair. Goren looked around and literally jumped up from his to roll it over to Eames. Then he went out to get another one in.

"That should happen in our squad," Benson teased with a sour grin to Stabler. "I would make three crosses in my calendar."

"As if you'd use chairs to sit on," Stabler replied, easily visualizing her perching on tables or other furniture reading files or discussing.

"Maybe I would if you and the other guys would provide one."

"And maybe you're grown up and independent enough to take care of your butt on your own."

Benson openly laughed. "I bet you didn't even got yours up once since we've left."

She caught Stabler by surprise who was just about to lean back and sip at his coffee. His outburst had him almost spread coffee all over him. It took him some effort to avoid it.

"Liv! How often do we have to discuss this? No jokes when someone's drinking." A sour grin returned on his face while he checked his clothes for splashes.

"And I was under the expression that you're old enough to be able to take care of your body's reactions," Benson kept teasing.

Stabler glared at her but was not really annoyed. He furtively watched her.

"To work with men is like keeping little kids in line," Eames threw in, nearly causing Benson to spill her own coffee now when she laughed out.

"Same to you, Liv," Stabler taunted back.

"As you said, Alex," Barek joined the banter. "It's easier to herd a bag of fleas."

"Do you notice a pattern, Bobby?" Logan asked. "The girls ally themselves against us."

"You're having problems with that?" Goren just drank some coffee, then reached for the bags to get a danish.

"Well, okay," Logan grumbled. "It's still three versus three…"

"…so you're hopelessly outnumbered," Barek completed before he could say something else. "Accept it, Mike. We are the stronger sex."

"Bobby, I knew we shouldn't have messed around with _sex crimes_. They're already rubbing off on our partners."

"As much as I remember you were already inferior to Carolyn before Benson and Stabler joined us," Goren replied without looking up from the file he was studying.

"I'll ask you next time you're having an argument with Alex, pal."

"Whatever you like, Logan."

Benson and Stabler exchanged a glance as well as a fleeting grin. Now they could relax a bit.

"Okay," Eames said in an earnest tone that made everyone sit up. "As we checked on the third vic we should begin. Do you…?"

"No," Benson shook her head. "Go ahead."

"Well, as her colleagues at the bar already told us, Julia wanted to become a songwriter. She had three guitars, a keyboard and cutting programs on her computer. On her pin board hung several flyers for open mic nights. One of them took place the Saturday before she was found. Maybe she wanted to participate."

"Open mic night?" Logan asked.

"They take place at discos or clubs," Eames explained. "Musicians can present their compositions there and maybe find an agent or even a studio which will publish them."

"Her neighbors couldn't tell us anything about her. They hardly recognized Julia on the photo," Benson continued. "One said that she was away a lot, mostly in the evening, came home early in the morning. He met her several times when he came back from his night shift."

"We also found documents about her membership at the _White Dragon Karate Dojo_," Eames said. "She began to take lessons in self defense, probably because she often was on her way by night."

"Nothing spectacular at Davenport's apartment either," Logan threw in. "Obviously she had no spare time between her job and her five kids. She had a plan for the week on the door of her fridge… as well as a lock."

"A lock?" Benson breathed in dismay. "Why should she have a lock…"

"To make sure that the food will last till the end of the week," Goren cut her short in a seemingly unaffected tone. "She will have had the dry food and cans high in the cupboards and only cheap things into reach of the kids."

"I don't understand why she…"

"Because she had not enough money," Barek said. "They might have been hungry if she did not divide the food into rations."

"Yeah." Goren got up and went to the board. He just stood there, staring at the photo of Lindsay Davenport. In his mind he pictured her flat. He had a good idea how it might look like and he sighed. _How did she possibly react to her captor? What had she done to enrage him so much that he mutilated her? Maybe it just had been a trifle_.

"That's so hard to imagine…" Benson said. "Even if we see so much misery each day on the job."

"Well, we also got her calendar and her diary," Barek went on. "I will look through them to see if she felt watched."

"The neighbors also were very helpful," Logan said contemptuously. "They only complained about the kids who were too loud."

"And no one saw someone sneak around the house either."

Stabler obviously was deep in thoughts. "Wait," he suddenly demanded.

"What's on your mind?" Barek asked.

"Dominoes." He turned to the pin board again.

They all looked puzzled except of Goren. His expression lit up like the proverbial light bulb as he jumped on Stabler's train of thoughts. He felt as if Stabler just had put something into words he already knew for weeks but could not quite grasp. Nodding approval he grabbed for the file of Patricia Douglas.

"You just said that Cornwell-Brooks was a member of a dojo," Stabler said.

"Yeah… the _White Dragon Dojo_," Eames confirmed.

"Patterson also knew karate. She also taught, but where was…"

"_White Dragon_, too," Goren said absently. His mind was rushing forward, skipping several connections, and let him subconsciously draw conclusions the others had not reached yet. He stood over the table and scribbled something into his notebook. Then he headed out, throwing the folder on the desk.

"Is that normal?" Stabler wanted to know.

"Yes," Eames replied. Barek smiled to herself and Logan rolled his eyes over a wry grin, grabbing the abandoned file.

"He won't be far away," Eames added. "We'll get to know why he left when he's back."

With that she could not prevent Stabler to frown deeper. He mumbled something she could not understand and she got the impression that she made it worse. Eames became quite annoyed and tried to suppress it. "Most likely he's checking something at the lab."

"So they may have known each other," Logan threw in to change the subject. "Maybe Julia was in one of Patterson's classes."

"I'll check it," Barek said and left to make a call.

"Didn't I see something about the fifth vic helping at a social table?" Benson asked and her partner turned to the respective short record on the wall. "If Davenport had five kids so that youth welfare was already involved, she probably went to the social table, too."

Eames picked up her notes to look for the number of the welfare organization. "I'll take care of that," she said and also left.

Logan got up and turned to the door. Then he thought better of it and looked over his shoulder to eye the SVU partners closely. "She would never say something, but… you've never been running away following an impulse?" With that he left.

"Elliot, what's the matter with you?" Benson asked her partner, once they were alone. "Why are you so offensive?"

"What are we doing here, Liv?" He did his best to sound casually, but Benson knew him good enough to tell that he was almost boiling with rage.

"We're assisting in an investigation."

"You're sure we are?"

"You're sure you're annoyed with Goren?" She waited a moment to offer him time to respond. When he remained silent she continued. "Or do you feel threatened by him? Does he question your own authority?"

He pierced her with his intense blue eyes.

"I don't feel threatened, I feel superfluous here." Her puzzled look made him snort. "Why did they call us in? Certainly not because they needed help. And don't tell me they wouldn't have found out about this," he pointed behind himself at the pin board, "by themselves. They know that SVU should have gotten the case and asked us to participate to avoid rivalries between the squads. This is not about the case but all political."

Benson patiently waited until he was finished. "You don't want to work with Goren."

"That's right, I don't want to. And seeing how he treats us it's obvious why."

"I don't see any problems. All I'm seeing is that you seem to feel the need to defend yourself or your territory from the start… and I can't figure out the reason."

He did not have to answer.

xxx

When Goren returned to the squad room, he discovered Eames at her desk and went to join her. She just put the earpiece of her phone down and scribbled something.

"Who did you call?" he asked, stopping next to her, leaning against the desk's side. "Anything new?"

Eames shook her head. "I just called the group which organizes the social table, our fifth victim was helping at. I wanted to check if Davenport used to go there, but the description did not tell them anything, so someone has to drive over there to check it personally.

"Would you go?" Goren wanted to know.

"With Benson again?"

"Or with Stabler. You know… I would go with you, but…"

"Bobby, stop. You know it was your fault. Don't complain. I won't pity you."

"I neither need nor want somebody's pity. You could go there with Stabler."

"You want to get rid of him?" she asked. His crumbled features led her to this question. Obviously he was not on best terms with him. "If I'll go, I would rather take Benson with me. We get along well."

"I can't say the same about us," he admitted.

_That's what I suspected_, she thought. "Then you should continue to compare the victims together with him."

"That's no solution for our problem right now… and it's not necessary either."

"You already solved the mystery?" Eames teased.

"No." His look turned sour. "Stabler did."

"With his domino theory?" Eames sat up. "Will you tell me?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "I should tell all of you."

This time Eames eyed him with a challenging smirk. "Good for you that _you_ recognized that." She got up and wanted to return to the office, Benson and Stabler shared now, but Goren did not move. "What?"

He seemed to be hesitant. His gaze flickered from his partner to the office and back, while his shoulders slumped. Even as he was six foot four he gave the impression of a smaller man right now due to the lopsided way he was leaning against the furniture. And that had nothing to do with the fact that he tried to get on eye level with his diminutive partner, who, even with high heels, barely reached his chin.

Eames would not ask more. They both knew that this short _what_ was sufficient and so she waited until he finally would be ready to answer. Her only mean to push was her characteristic way to arch her brows. More than any other question this urged him to come back with an explanation.

"He's demanding," he stated and slowly shuffled towards the office.

"And you're not?" she teased, following him.

Looking back at her over his shoulder he slightly stumbled. He made two more steps backwards and stopped.

"What do you want to tell me, hum?"

"That you big oaf also are not the sweet little angel you'd like to let us believe you to be," she whispered.

"I never pretended to be one. My discussion with Malone testifies to that, don't you think."

"Oh, yes, I do believe you that." She rolled her eyes. "You left me currently without a partner with this cockfight."

He frowned deeply and his features crumbled again. She knew he was mortified, but she would not let him get away with it so easily.

"You'll have to bite the bullet. Besides, he can't be as bad as it may seem right now. Benson partners him for years and she does not make the impression as if she's merely standing him." Eames saw that she could not convince him so far. "He's a cop, a detective, just like us. He's tough and he's smart. As a matter of fact you should rather like him." With that she circled him for to continue to the office.

Sighing Goren turned on his heels to follow Eames and ran right into her, because she had stopped to address him again.

"Bobby!" She grabbed his arm for support.

"I'm sorry," he started but she waved off.

"My fault. I just wanted to tell you this," she gestured him to bow down to her. "You learned to cope with Mike, so you will learn to cope with Stabler, too," she murmured conspiratorially to him. "But it would not hurt anybody, if you could manage it a bit faster this time."

Grimacing he stared at her back as she dove through the door. Then he shuffled after her. As he passed their conjoined desks, also Barek and Logan got up to accompany him in.

"So we're complete again?" Stabler greeted them. He could have sworn that Goren slightly cringed. He must have been mistaken. "Something you want to share with us?"

Goren returned his piercing stare but did not answer.

"I talked with the manager of the dojo Julia Cornwell-Brooks went to for self defence classes," Barek explained without being asked. "He confirmed that Patterson was teaching the beginners. She also held courses in self defence and… Julia attended the last one."

"We will certainly find a connection between Cornwell-Brooks and Douglas when we start to have a closer look at the events they visited," Goren said, but sounded almost absently. He was rather speaking to himself. "They're both involved in entertainment business, so we'll probably find it there. I also remembered that I found a note in Harrison's calendar about a play she wanted to go to. I looked it up and it was the one Douglas and her ensemble were playing at this small independent theatre she was working at as assistant director. Maybe our suspect has met Harrison there while he was stalking Douglas."

"At the social table no one wanted to say with absolute clarity that Davenport went there," Eames added. "We'll have to check this again by presenting them a photo of her."

"Then you should do this together with your partner," Stabler said to her, but stared at Goren to see how he reacted.

This time the big detective did not move an inch. He suspected that his secret was no secret anymore.

"Actually I thought that you two could do us this favour," he said. "Then you're already halfway to your precinct. Maybe you want to check on the cases you had to hand over."

"Too graciously," Stabler sneered at him. "Really, how considerately."

"Elliot," Benson murmured, "don't."

"No, Olivia," he replied aggressively. "I want to know…" he turned to Goren again, "I want to know why he doesn't simply tell us that he's on desk duty!"

His rant met silence. Everyone stared at him and then turned to Goren. The big detective blushed violently and looked as if he wanted to run. Instead he straightened up to face the SVU detective, but had no chance to reply something.

"You know, Goren," Stabler continued. "You can argue with FBI agents as much as you like, as long as you tell us about it afterwards, especially when the consequences chain you to the squad room."

Goren held his stare for a moment, then glanced at his watch. It already was late afternoon.

"If you could do us the favour to check on the social table this would be quite helpful when we're going to make a profile tomorrow," he said as calmly as possible. "Would you please try to find a witness who can confirm that Lindsay Davenport went to this social table? That would be great, thank you."

Goren turned on his heels and left the office. Silence reigned.

"Great," Benson said. "We're back at the kindergarden."

"Let's get back to our case," Barek suggested and dragged Logan out of the task room.

"What are you complaining about?" Stabler asked his partner. "How shall we work together if we can't even talk about something like that?"

Benson could not deny that he was right at this point. Yet, she did not like the way he had handled the situation.

"So, will we go to this social table?"

She saw him nod and left first. "See you tomorrow," she greeted, when they passed Eames and Goren's desks on their way out, and Eames returned it. Goren was just about to come out of Deakins' office and noticed that Eames had a look at the SVU detectives as they left.

"Do you see something interesting?" Goren asked casually, following her misty-eyed gaze. "Didn't notice the ring?"

"Hum?" Eames looked puzzled.

"You're too late," Goren stated, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "He's married."

Now it was too obvious what he was talking about. "It's not forbidden to look at a good looking ass when there's an opportunity." In the same instant she bit her tongue. Why, the hell, did she tell _him_ that? That was girl-talk.

"I would like to know what you're looking at when I'm walking in front of you…"

"Your ass, too," she snapped. "Taking aim to kick it, because it's blocking my view."

His grin crumbled slightly. "You know, you can be scary sometimes."

"You have no idea."

xxx

"So, how was your day at Major Case?" Munch asked, as Stabler strolled into the SVU squad room.

"Wrong question at the wrong time," he replied.

"So bad? What happened? Did they make you do slave's work?"

The look Stabler shot at him told him more than words.

"In the papers they just wrote about Major Case generally, so… who are you working with?"

Stabler rolled his eyes. "With Alex Eames…"

"And Goren?!" Munch cut him short. "With the department's crazy star detective?" He just got a grunt as answer. "What do they need _you_ for? To take the blame if they screw up?"

"Munch," Tutuola growled. "That's enough."

"Hey, partner! What's bitten you?"

"Nothing so far. Just keep in mind some of my history and think about it before you're talking yourself deeper into trouble." Tutuola glared at him and turned to his files again.

Stunned, Munch remained silent for a while. Finally he remembered, that his partner had been with Narcotics before he joined SVU… and that Goren also were assigned to that squad.

"And what are you doing here?" he turned back to Stabler.

"I just wanted to ask if you've got anything in the Dawson case."

"Not very much," Tutuola said. "The usual background info, nothing conspicuous. He was an unknown quantity."

"There must be something," Stabler replied. "I can't believe that this should be…"

"Coincidental?" Tutuola mused. "Yes, it looks like that."

"The injuries are totally at random and testify to a burst of rage," Munch continued. "Huang told us that the murderer acted totally unplanned. He has used what he got at hand in this alley. So he might have gotten the pump out of the dumpster."

"All Huang really could tell us is that it might happen again," Tutuola grumbled. "Whoever it was has just spotted the guy, thought what-an-opportunity, and has killed him."

"Just like that?" Stabler could not believe it, or better, did not want to believe.

"Just like that." Tutuola shrugged.

"Most likely we won't find him," Munch added.

xxx

Once he had started to cane her, Linda did stop babbling. Instead, she screamed her lungs out of her body until she collapsed against the wall and hung in the ropes.

He cut her loose and left her alone again. She still had time. He would wait for the golden opportunity to present her to the detective.

_If she really did talk with him about things like that? How to talk to an assailant for to influence him? I was under the impression that she mentioned her brat on absolute purpose. It was her intention to make clear to me that she has responsibility for her brat. As if I would care…_

His thoughts returned to his other studies.

_Well, there's much more to these two cops. When I've seen them the first time I thought that she was rather pretty. And she's tough._

_I could not see why someone like her would work with someone like him._

_Bobby Goren really is a class of his own. I doubt that there will be another cop in the NYPD who can be compared with him._

_Bobby_. He did not want to believe that they called him Bobby, but they actually did. He gave an amused snort. Then he recalled the information of more than twenty pages he had printed and made an outline of the main points in his mind:

_Former Military Police investigator, several years with Narcotics, undercover operations, conviction rate one hundred percent… If he would not be such an unconventional cop he could have made progress through the ranks much faster._

_But if he would not be that odd he would not be so interesting either_.

He had heard so many stories about him and his partner that he felt as if he knew them. He also knew about his Mom at _Carmel Ridge_, he knew about his problems with his father, he knew about his brother, he knew about his struggles to find a partner when he was transferred to Major Case, he knew about Croyden… He stopped right there.

_This guy really has a lot of problems… and with this investigation he'll get some more._

From the start he had been intrigued with the opportunity to finally match wits with Bobby, to learn more about him personally… and to show him his limits.

He had been very disappointed when the police department did not even notice that they had a serial killer on their hands. It had taken four lives until they reacted. He also had taken care of not to cross federal boundaries, so that the case would not be handed over to the Feds. He knew they would give the case to Major Case now and was glad that they assigned Bobby Goren at once.

_Well, I was also a bit disappointed. I could have garnished my request for Detective Goren's participation in the case with another corpse_.

And with him came Alexandra Eames, his very beautiful, very tough and very witty partner. He adored her as much as him. Without her Bobby would not be the same, not the same detective and not the same man.

A grin flashed over his face. _Finally I meet someone who could be a match for me._

But then someone made an unexpected move: He called in the detectives of the Special Victims Unit.

_I never heard of them before and as that did not know anything about them and their field of duty. By a hair's breadth they would have gotten the case._

_These eyes…_

A shudder washed over him. _Attraction versus intellect_.

_I should vote for a relationship with intellect. That should be long-lasting and more interesting._

He had awaited them outside of One Police Plaza.

To watch the unequal partners had not been very productive the evening previous. So he had made up his mind and tonight followed the latest addition of their team… the two sex-detectives. He had been more than surprised when he recognized them as the cops who worked the crime scene of the guy in NoHo. Now he wanted to know more about them before he made his next move, because now he had not only to worry about Goren.

Suddenly the passenger door opened and a slim figure slipped in the seat.

"I don't like you poach in my hunting grounds," a steel cold, feminine voice reproached him.

He turned to face her. In the darkness he could only see the contours of her profile as she stared out of the windshield. But he did not have to see her, he knew her voice. And he knew that she really was annoyed with him.

"I'm poaching?"

"Yes, you are. Bobby and his partner are mine to toy with. Don't touch them!"

"My dear Nicky. Take a cup of coffee and relax. I just want to play with them."

"I know your games, honey," she snapped. "I read in the papers about your latest project. And I'd recommend you to leave them alone!"

"Do you want to threat me, Nicky?"

"And don't call me Nicky!"

"Oh. I'm sooo sorry, _Nicole_," he purred sarcastically. "He totally disregards you. And he never will love you. So why don't _you_ leave _him_ alone?" He unscrewed the thermo-bottle and poured her a cup. He took one gulp and handed it to her.

Reluctantly she took it. For a while they sat in silence. She sipped at her coffee from time to time.

"If you'd really have followed my latest work you should know that I'm good. Nobody was able to catch me over the years that passed. Even your mighty Detective Bobby Goren hasn't found a clue. So I have to thank you, cause a lot of my knowledge comes from you."

"Don't compliment me. I won't let you have them."

"That won't be necessary." In the darkness he was smiling at her viciously. "I'm taking them from you."

"Don't you dare!"

"I don't know why you're complaining, Nicole. I've watched you, too, my dear. You never were able to break him. Now it's my turn to try."

"I don't want you to try. _I_ will break him one day. I just haven't found the right way to do so…"

"We could do it together, Nicky," he offered.

"You? And me? You're never sharing. Why should you start now?"

_Just to weigh you in security, darling_, he thought.

"You agree or disagree? Just tell me, hon."

"No. I don't want your co-operation. Bobby's mine."

"I don't want Bobby."

For a moment she was startled. Each time they had discussed this matter he had been interested in her work with Bobby Goren. Lost in thoughts about what he had said she did not notice his hand on her thigh.

"Maybe you'll meet him tomorrow," he said. "Wouldn't you like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you're waking up in a cell… perhaps they'll call him so that he can talk with you. Then you can try and break him."

"What are you talking about?"

"You taught me a lot, honey. You, the queen of poisons. You have fallen for my trick. It's not in the coffee, darling, it was in my ring. Didn't you feel the sting in your thigh?"

No she did not. But she felt tiredness creep in her mind.

"What do you…?" Her voice trailed off and she slumped in the seat unconsciously.

"…want?" he finished her question, the piranha-smile returning. "I want them both."

* * *

A/N: Okay, folks. Now it's your turn. I know it took some time but for that it became a long chapter. This was hard to do, so I guess I earn some reviews…:-) 


	9. Chapter 8

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. They were great!

This one is for _ConfusedOne _who unconfused my confusion about the confusing relationship between Nicole and Bobby. What have I just said? (rolls eyes) Never mind... LMAO Thanks for all the input. Soon your question will be answered…:)

And I'd love to get you, yeah, you, out of your closet under the sink. That's a different story. Please (!) tell me your opinion about this one.

**8**

**Manhattan**

Around three a.m. the phones of Eames, Benson and Stabler rang. Just ten minutes later the two female detectives were on their way to the crime scene. Stabler took a few minutes longer, because he had a short discussion with Kathy, who also woke up by the call, while he got dressed. He kissed his wife goodbye and knew that he would be lucky if he was back home the next evening.

When he arrived at the small hotel in Manhattan, Eames and Benson greeted him curtly.

"When was she found?" Stabler asked.

"Hardly two hours ago." Benson sighed. "And it's not Linda Montagnolo," she added with a glance at him. "We already have ID. Her name is Stephanie Fountain."

"Who found her?"

"Tourists. She was left in their room."

"They are on their way to One Police Plaza for to give their statement," Eames added.

"Why not here?"

"Because they hardly speak English."

"And where's Goren? At the scene?"

"He shall take the statement."

Stabler grunted. "I thought he'd be the first one examining the crime scene nevertheless. He's famous for his… ways to look at a body."

Eames rolled her eyes. "I'm also an old hand at scenes. You can say I grew up with it."

"You're from a cop family, right?" Benson asked.

She nodded.

Benson saw her partner frown. Something bothered him. "Elliot?"

"Nothing," he warded off, glancing at her. "I'm just thinking. What else do we have?"

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Goren also got a call from Deakins and was ordered to come to One Police Plaza.

He had hardly arrived at the bullpen when a sergeant came in, a couple in tow, obviously tourists, and asked for Detective Goren.

"That's me," he said and rose from his chair. "What can I do for you?"

"I was asked to bring these two to you. They have found the girl when they returned to their room."

"What kind of luck. Did someone tell you why no one got a statement in the field?"

"We could have, but they hardly speak English. We already sent for an interpreter, but your captain said that you might want to talk with them personally, so Fleming will come over here as fast as he can."

"Sir?" Goren addressed the man. "Where do you come from?"

So much the tourist understood. "Germany."

A small smile touched Goren's face. "An interpreter won't be necessary," he told the cop. "Thank you."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you very much."

The sergeant shrugged and left the office.

"Kommen Sie, bitte," Goren asked the couple to follow him and went to one of the task rooms. There he gestured them to sit down on one side of the table while he took place on the other, getting his notepad and pen ready.

"Okay," he began. "Ich bin Detective Robert Goren. Darf ich Sie um Ihren Namen bitten?"

"Our names, yes, I am Gerhard Weitzenegger, my… woman… Brigitte." Trying to be polite he gathered what little English he remembered.

"Sie können Deutsch mit mir sprechen," Goren replied, knowing that Mr. Weitzenegger actually wanted to refer to Brigitte as his _wife_. "Ich habe es gelernt, als ich in Deutschland stationiert war."

Both of them smiled at him with relief. This detective knew their language… Now it would only be a matter of time when they could leave for their hotel.

"Erzählen Sie mir, wie Sie die Frau gefunden haben," Goren asked him to describe how they had stumbled over the dead body.

So the man began to tell the tale about how they, a couple from Braunschweig, Germany, had found a murdered woman when they were just about to return to their hotel room after exploring New York's nightlife. It would be quite a story for their relatives and friends at home, too. How often did it happen that tourists got involved in some police investigations. While he was talking he became more relaxed and somewhat anxious to help the detective.

xxx

**Manhattan**

"We have a heap of towels," Benson said. "That's what she was draped over. Our perp has thrown them onto the floor and laid her over them. So he achieved the arch."

"Apart from that she looks differently," Eames added. "Her hands aren't folded. The left arm is lying beside her head, the right over her middle."

While they were talking they went from the hall into the hotel room. There Stabler could see for himself the condition the murderer had left his victim in. Stephanie Fountain was completely naked and stabbed several times into stomach and chest. Of course they would need the confirmation of the medical examiner, but he suspected that these stabs had been done postmortem.

Once more Stella Bonasera and Danny Messer worked the scene for CSU. Right now Messer stood over the body, taking photos, before the examination could be carried through. When he stepped aside Stabler squatted next to her to look at her closely. Yes, the posture was not the same. And that rose the question why the killer had changed it. Or would they have to deal with a copycat, too?

The ladies had a look at the room to get an impression of the scene on the whole. As her gaze slid over the body, Eames stopped at the sight of Stabler. After being called out in the middle of the night he had not taken the time to dress in a suit again. He now wore jeans and a light black leather jacket over his shirt. Eames could not help but think that his butt looked even better in this tight fitting piece of black denims.

"Gotcha," someone whispered in her ear. When her head spun round she met the eyes of Benson.

"Checking out my partner?" the SVU detective chuckled, but did not raise her voice. She giggled when she saw Eames' cheeks take on a shade of red. "You're not the first and certainly not the last."

Obviously Stabler noticed some tension, because he stood up again and turned towards them with a frown. He saw his partner's grin and the embarrassment of Eames and made the connection. A wholehearted broad smile that showed off his perfect white teeth was the result and it made his blue eyes sparkle.

_This is not an invitation,_ Eames thought, feeling a shiver run down her spine, _just an acknowledgement and a sign that he knows quite well about his attraction_. And she returned it. Then she noticed that his expression changed and felt it touch her deep inside. She blushed violently and turned her head away.

Stabler laughed softly. "You don't look so bad yourself," he teased before he returned his attention to the scene again.

Benson leaned in on her from behind. "Speaking of attraction," she smirked, "your partner also is one hell of a looker."

"Ladies," Stabler reproved them in a mocking tone. "We're at a crime scene."

"And?" Benson challenged.

"Show some reverence."

Benson detected another note in his voice. Knowing that he was practicing Catholic, she decided to stop the banter at this point.

He winked at her and saw her uneasiness. "I mean, before we start to discuss Bonasera and Messer's merits, too."

Hearing this, Messer squinted up at him from where he was crouching to save some evidence. He tilted his head and grimaced, but turned away again without any word.

Stella smirked at her colleague and continued with dusting the door lock. "Certainly would have something to do with brains, willpower and persistency," she said casually.

The different cops present laughed.

"Yeah, you've got the first two and Messer the last," Eames replied.

"Ha, ha, thanks," Messer growled, but his smirk belied his rant.

Yet again laughing softly the detectives went on with their tasks. Once finished at the crime scene Eames as well as Benson and Stabler started to question the guests of the hotel.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Finally Goren let Mr. and Mrs. Weitzenegger write down their personal data and asked them to wait until he could finish the record. They signed it and praised Goren's foreign language skills.

"Wir wünschen Ihnen viel Erfolg bei Ihren Ermittlungen," Mr. Weitzenegger tried to encourage the detective.

"Sollten wir Ihre Hilfe in einem möglichen Prozeß benötigen, werde ich mich persönlich mit Ihnen in Verbindung setzen," Goren explained the couple, that he would have to contact them in case they would be needed in a process.

Then they said goodbye and the Germans left the squad room in the company of a uniformed cop who would take them back to the hotel.

Thoughtfully Goren studied the freshly written record over and over again. He was so consumed by his reading that he did not notice captain Deakins standing at his right side.

"Goren?" Deakins addressed him. "Goren!" Softly he nudged his shoulder.

Goren jumped. When he looked up, his gaze was weary.

"After so much time behind your desk I'd rather expect you to bounce around with energy," Deakins could not help but tease when he looked down in these deep brown eyes. "Tell me about the statement."

"At five in the morning?" he replied, suppressing a yawn. "The couple was _invited_ to a musical this evening," he then explained. "They found an envelope inside of their room, behind the door on the floor. Inside were two tickets for _Les Miserables_ and a note reading, _Welcome to New York, I can't go, so please have fun for me_. No signature."

"And they went to the musical?" Deakins frowned. "Didn't they have any suspicions?"

"They puzzled the message together with their dictionary and decided that the tickets had been sent from heaven. You know how difficult it is to get musical tickets for the evening?"

"There always are rests sold at the TKTS on Broadway. If you're lucky…"

"Not for seats like this," Goren interrupted him. He pointed at his computer monitor and moved the mouse so that it started again. There was a plan of the musical theatre. "They were sitting here," he told his captain and moved the curser over the two places.

Deakins' lower jaw dropped. "These are not only difficult to get, they're also expensive. We should be able to find out who bought these tickets."

"Yeah," Goren agreed. He sounded frustrated. "But so early in the morning no one's in the office."

Once more Deakins frowned. "I know, Bobby. Take a break."

"Yeah."

The captain eyed him closely. Goren rather hung in his chair than sat and leaned far back. He looked tired, but not from the sleepless night.

"What's eating at you?"

Goren let his head drop back, too. For a moment he closed his eyes before he looked at Deakins again. "That I know her?"

"Who, the victim?"

"The abducted woman, Linda."

"Is there any proof that her disappearance is connected with this string of murders?"

"No," Goren had to concede. "We've found that there is nothing they all have in common, but Stabler pointed out that our perp might have found them one after the other, being led to his next victim by the last."

"Like dominoes."

"Yeah, like that." Goren sighed. A small part of him was amused that the captain chose the same words as Stabler. That brought him back to the SVU detective and his forehead crumpled. "I was racking my brain and comparing everything we have so far about Linda, but I could not find a connection to Lindsay Davenport."

"Maybe you should give that brain of yours a break."

"I have to find out about her…"

"Bobby," Deakins insisted. "How about you occupy your mind with something else?"

"Like what?" Goren wanted to know.

"Dispatch got an anonymous call. They were told that there would be a fugitive and that cops could make an arrest."

"A fugitive? Who are we talking about?" He just was not interested.

Deakins knew that this would change… right now. "Nicole Wallace."

Sitting up so fast that he almost toppled over out of the chair, Goren panted, "What? When?"

"Few hours ago," Deakins specified. "When the uniforms found her she was unconscious, cuffed to a radiator. Now she's in our interrogation room. Want to talk with her?"

Goren nodded excitedly.

xxx

**Manhattan**

In a small diner across the street from the hotel, Elliot Stabler leaned in the corner of the booth they occupied and was slowly dozing off, while they were waiting for their breakfast to be served. His partner was talking with Eames and took no notice of the sleeping detective right at her side. When a small smile began to tug at the corners of Eames' mouth Benson followed her view to look at Stabler. A grin spread over her face.

"You're cops, right?" the waitress asked, lowering the plates with pancakes for Eames, scrambled eggs with hashbrowns for Stabler and finally bagels with cream cheese and salmon for Benson onto the table. "Had a rough night?"

_It's not over yet_, Eames thought. She saw Benson nod.

"Thank you," the SVU detective said and nodded again, when the young woman indicated to refill the coffee mugs.

"Sorry we have to wake him," Eames murmured. "He looks cute."

"That's deceiving," Benson whispered back. Then she leaned over and slightly prodded him with her index finger. "Hey, El," she teased, "Elliot."

A stronger push of her knuckles into his chest made him jump.

"What?" He almost tipped over his coffee when he was startled awake. "Damn." He rubbed his eyes. "That shouldn't have happened."

"Who cares?" Eames replied. "It was a short night."

"Hmm. Now I'm more tired than before." Pinching the bridge of his nose he winked several times to clear his vision.

"Breakfast is served," Benson said and started her bagels.

For a while they ate in silence.

"So we almost know as much as before," Eames stated, swallowing her last bite of pancake.

"Yeah," Stabler grunted. "We should have had a look at the unoccupied rooms. That would have taken less time and been quite more productive than to talk with the hotel's guests."

Benson snorted. "We should get the security tapes soon. He must be on these tapes."

"Yeah," Eames agreed. "He must have gotten her into the hotel somehow."

"I don't think that he will make such mistakes," Stabler said. He was picking at his potatoes.

"And how should he avoid it?" Eames wondered. "The only way would have been not to enter the hotel."

"We'll see."

"Who shall watch the tapes?" Benson asked.

"We will," Eames offered. "I wanted to call Goren and ask him about the statement. I guess I'll get him some take-out and meet him at the office. Then we can watch the tapes. Will you go to Fountain's apartment?"

"Yes," Benson confirmed. "We'll take that."

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

The petite blonde sat in the chair in interrogation two as if it was a throne. She leaned against the backrest just to support her slim, yet perfectly rounded body, her hands resting on her lap, and waited. When the door opened she turned her head towards the man entering. Her dark eyes sparkled with pleasure when she recognized him.

"Bobby!"

"Nicole."

He closed the door and sat down in the chair opposite of hers. For a long moment they just held their gazes, each of them appraising the other.

"You look like crap," Nicole finally started the conversation. "Had a rough shift?"

"Just a night awake," he replied. "You on the other hand had a good sleep."

"Did your colleagues tell you that?"

"Yeah. Do you want to tell me your story?"

Nicole really looked thoughtful, yet, he had anticipated her to reject at once.

"Oh, Bobby," she scolded. "What kind of a gross attempt. You don't have a better idea?"

"I don't want to play your games, Nicole."

"You don't play? Then you won't get anything from me."

"How do you get the idea that I might want something from you?"

"Bobby, you disappoint me." She pursed her lips, pouting. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

He couldn't deny that she made this point.

"So, how's it come that you were found unconscious, cuffed to a radiator?"

"Open questions don't necessarily open me up, Bobby. You should know that by now."

"I don't need this information to nail you, Nicole. I just thought you might want to relieve yourself a bit by ranting about your traitorous accomplice."

She leaned forward on the table between them, looking intently into his eyes. "A traitor? You're not your usual self, Bobby, not as smart and cunning."

"Did your current lover trick you before you could kill him?"

Now she slumped against the backrest again, crossing her arms over her chest. She did not pout, she was annoyed. "Okay, Bobby, so far it has been funny. But if you really don't want to play, I'll refer to my right to remain silent."

"You can remain silent as long as you want, Nicole. That won't change the fact that you're going to be sentenced… for kidnapping."

"Because I brought Gwen to her aunt? We'll see, Bobby. If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure."

"It was not you to decide. Your intentions don't justify the kidnapping."

"And I guess that Gwen really appreciated the fact that she was brought to her aunt by someone she loved. This way she was spared the hurt of seeing her dad be accused for murder of her uncle."

"A murder you committed."

"That's what you're saying, Bobby. If I'm informed right Ewan is sentenced for this murder, isn't he?"

"We both know that he didn't do it."

She waved her index finger at him, just like he used to do it. "That's what you're convinced of. I'm not responsible for Larry's death."

"Yes, you are. And you should have taken the responsibility."

"Why should I. You know that I haven't done anything. Otherwise you wouldn't have accepted the deal that led to Ewan's arrest."

"That was no deal, Nicole. You lie to yourself when you don't admit the murder."

"And let Ewan walk free? To go after Gwen again? I'm not stupid, Bobby."

He just held her gaze. He knew that she wasn't stupid. Actually she was very intelligent. Together with her abusive background it made her a very dangerous person.

"Why did you come back?"

Her smile turned sad. "You know why." Hurt radiated from her dark eyes. "You robbed me."

"You mean Gwen?" Why wasn't he surprised? "You really couldn't have expected to have anything to do with her life. How could you dare to expect that?"

"I guess we already had this discussion. But I'll tell you again. She could have cured me."

"No, Nicole." He shook his head. "No. You know that you would have destroyed her. Just like you destroy everyone. Wherever you are, people are dying."

"You keep saying this, Bobby. But you have no proof at all! I could have proven you wrong this time."

"For how long? How long until she'd have done something? How long until you would have hurt her?"

"I never could hurt Gwen!"

"In the same way as you never hurt your daughter?"

"That was an accident!" Tears threatened to fall. "How often shall I repeat that?"

"Your crocodile's tears don't impress anybody," Goren snapped. "You haven't changed a bit. The murder of Bernard Freemont proves that, and I will prove that you did it."

Now her façade crumbled. "One day it all will come back to you. And I will be there to enjoy it."

"Your empty threats don't hit home, Nicole." He turned to leave and had already his hand on the handle, when Nicole spoke again.

"You have bigger problems than my wrath."

Slowly he turned back to her. "Do you really think you could hurt me that way?"

"You will suffer the same way I'm suffering by the loss of Gwen. If you're not careful you will lose the most important person of your life… the only person you ever could love."

"As if you could judge about something like that." Determined not to be stopped by her again, he went for the door.

"Love can build a bridge, Bobby."

"What?"

"It's a bridge, not an arch."

When he looked at her she leaned in her chair, slightly bowed over the backrest and hands folded over her stomach, smiling at him. By the glimmer in her eyes he could tell that this was all he would get from her.

xxx

It already was early afternoon when the four detectives met at One Police Plaza again. They settled down in the office of Benson and Stabler to discuss their results.

"We finally have to confirm Stabler's suspicions," Eames stated. "Not one of the security tapes shows a clear picture of our suspect."

"So you only have seen the girl?"

"No. He must have brought her in with one of the trolleys used for laundry," Eames had to answer Benson's question in the negative. "All we have seen was a tall guy in a wide coat and a broad rimmed hat, bowed over the trolley while pushing it."

They were interrupted by an office clerk who brought in the preliminary reports of ME and CSU. Eames thanked her and sat back at the table. She glanced at her partner. He was quite silent, lost in thoughts as so often. Yet, she knew that something troubled him. She could read it in the way he held his body and the set of his jaw. Signs, Benson and Stabler were oblivious to. And she knew that it was only a matter of time until Stabler's next outbreak would come if she would not get Goren to talk.

"Okay," she said. "What do we know about Miss Fountain?"

"Twenty six years old, no kids, single, working at a market, selling fresh fruit and vegetables," Benson summarized. "At first sight inconspicuous. Until now we haven't found anything that makes her fit the victim's profile."

"The way she was found also doesn't fit to the MO of our perp," Stabler continued. "She was draped over a heap of towels, but the posture was not the same." He grabbed for the file and got one of the photos out to pin it to the board.

It was now that Goren finally looked up. He just had a short look at the crime scene photo. In this few seconds Eames could watch him change. His distanced expression vanished and made room for open concern. She knew this look, because she had seen it before. She had seen it when they had found Croyden.

Without any word he got up and left. The two SVU detectives just could stare at his back as he crossed the squad room.

"Will that become a habit?" Stabler asked.

Eames preferred not to answer this and followed her partner. So she never saw the rolling eyes and helpless gesture, Stabler was dismissing them with.

xxx

Eames found him in an unoccupied interrogation room, sitting on the table. She stepped around and leaned with her forearms on the backrest of the chair he had his feet on.

"Someone will blow if you don't act like a cop soon." She tried to meet his eyes but he avoided her. "Don't exclude me, Bobby. If you start to exclude me, too, than you probably should leave this investigation."

"No." His head spun round. Now his eyes pierced her.

It was all Eames could do, not to gasp for breath. She saw raw pain in his eyes… and that hurt as well as scared her.

"What is it, Bobby? Please talk with me."

She had to wait several minutes until he was reasonably able to put into words what was on his distressed mind.

"I… when I saw her photo… she…" He sighed and drew a deep breath. "I never knew her complete name, only heard her been called Stevie."

"You knew her?"

"From the market." With this admission some of his stress was released and his shoulders slumped. His energy seemed to leave him with these three words.

"I know you don't believe in coincidences, but this must be a coincidence," Eames said. "There's no proof that Linda has been abducted by our perp and the MO at this scene is different, so that…"

"It is him," he contradicted her. "I can feel it."

"Don't mix up your perverted sentiments of guilt with solid evidence," she scolded. "So far nothing is pointing in this direction, so stop telling me that your nodding acquaintances have been in the hands of our killer."

"I won't explain it twice, so please give me some minutes to gather my thoughts, okay."

"You have five minutes to get ready," she stated. "If you're not back by then I'll come and get you."

With that she left, but he knew that this was not an empty threat.

xxx

"...but not least she didn't go missing. This girl was at work as usual until the market closed at eight pm," Stabler said.

"Yeah. The pretzel vendor at the next corner has seen her on her way home," Benson added. "He knows her for a long time and had a short chat with her. She also brought him some eggplants and tomatoes for his wife. He told us how she made filled eggplants for dinner."

"So there really is no connection with our case. It must be a copycat." Stabler sank in his office chair and was about to put his feet on the desk when he noticed Goren under the doorframe.

"You're wrong," was all the MCS detective said, and all he needed to say to let Stabler fly into a temper.

If it had not been for Benson who put her palms on the shoulders of her partner to gently hold him in place as well as to calm him, he would have blown.

"Look who's finally honoring us with his presence," Stabler growled as he could only deal out verbally right at this moment. "Our freaky princess."

Goren came in and went to the board without to spare Stabler a single glance. To be ignored maddened the SVU detective even more.

"He could not hold her captive because his cell still is occupied. Besides, it was his intention to send a message and he did not want to waste his thoroughly prepared current victim to do it. I haven't figured out yet what he's trying to tell us, but this is his way to say, _hello, you annoyed me._"

_I know what you mean_, Stabler thought, _and you're achieving this easily, cause I'm annoyed right now_.

"Can you tell me what led you to this conclusion?" Eames asked.

Goren looked at her incredulously. _Usually she can… No_, he thought, seeing her raising eyebrow. _She does follow me. She asked to spare the others the effort._

"I guess I've found the connection between Lindsay Davenport and Linda Montagnolo," he explained.

"Will you share your inspiration with us?" Stabler wanted to know. "We bloody rookies could do with some help of the incredible Goren, because we're too dumb to use our own brains."

But Goren did not give in to this provocation. He continued as if nothing would have been said at all.

"We were called in, after the fourth victim had been found and the conclusion had been drawn that we have to deal with a serial killer. We actually started our investigation when Harrison was found…"

"We know that," Stabler interrupted him. At least he tried to do that.

"He already must have had chosen Davenport at this time, so he continued with her. Then his way of selection slightly changed, cause he now began to search for victims I know. Linda Montagnolo is working at my favorite book shop and the market, Stevie was selling vegetables at, is two blocks from my place. And that's the connection now. I know them."

"And now we shall be impressed?" Stabler asked. "You really think that everything's circling around you?"

"He also selected the witnesses who found Stevie."

"So. How do you know? You're clairvoyant?"

"He's profiling," Eames cut in. "The same way Huang is profiling for your squad."

"Huang's trained to do that, Alex. Goren on the other hand…"

"Shut up, Elliot!" Eames snapped. "He may not have any certificate, but most likely he will have read more books about forensic psychology than you've ever read in your entire life."

Goren listened and watched, fascinated. _They're calling each other by first name, _he wondered_. When did that happen?_

Stabler opened his mouth but had no chance to say something.

"You should take your head out of your ass, Elliot," Eames ranted. "Because I will kick sense into you if you don't show any basic trust into a fellow cop."

"Let him," Goren threw in. "It's his way to release his surplus energy."

Stabler was fuming.

"The musical tickets, our perp has bought for the tourists to lure them out of their hotel room, so that he could deposit the victim there without to be disturbed, have been bought four months ago." Goren said. "That makes him a guy who really knows how to plan and tells us that he already had such a plan when he started his string. We've assumed that Perkins was his first victim, at least of this string, because his MO wasn't quite significant back then. He seemed to have just started killing people, but that can't be. He already planned to invite someone to the musical to be able to enter this person's apartment or in this case hotel room. And he chose a couple of tourists from Germany, most likely because he knows that I know this language."

"That shall be a profile?"

"And he did all this before he killed the first girl, making it look like he's a freshly developing murderer." Now he turned to Stabler and pierced him with his intense interrogation-stare until the other detective could not further avoid contact. "He was fixed on me before he stroke the first time."

"That would require that he knew you before," Benson said. "Someone you once arrested and who's out again? Someone who's seeking revenge?"

"Or someone who's just reading the newspapers," Goren replied, not breaking the stare at Stabler. "Some guys don't need more. They are like stalkers who are convinced that Scarlet Johansen is in love with them just because she smiled down at them from the screen."

"He may have read that you're working for Major Case and decided that you'd be an interesting gambling partner," Eames added. "Then he must have followed you to get to know enough about you to know Linda and Stevie. Did you…"

"Notice him?" He slightly shook his head, but did not break the contact. "No. I didn't notice anybody."

"Can you stop that?" Stabler asked.

"Why?" Goren stepped closer, ready to get into his personal space. "Am I making you nervous?"

Stabler got up, beating Goren to it. "No. Are you getting nervous?"

"Why should I?"

"Why should I?"

So they stood, neither of them moving, not even an inch, not even blinking. They were in a standoff and neither of them wanted to give the other the satisfaction to be the first to retreat. Benson and Eames stared at the boys and at each other, rolling their eyes. They had no chance to do something, because it was right then that Deakins appeared.

"Can you stop your cockfight and bring me up to date, Detectives?" he asked.

"We know that Davenport went to this social table," Stabler answered, not releasing the stare. "So our theory about the victims to be selected in a string, meaning that one led to the other, seems to be correct. So far we could find such a connection for each of our victims except of the still missing Linda Montagnolo and our last victim."

"I was just about to explain that we also know the connection between these three women," Goren said. His brown eyes shone even darker as his gaze bore into the sapphires of the SVU detective.

The girls were fascinated by the duel of their respective partners. The captain was annoyed.

"Detectives, stop that right now. - Now!"

One… two… three… they blinked at the same time. Stabler turned and dropped back in his chair.

"Try to convince me," he grumbled. Whatever else left his mouth was unintelligible and most likely this was for his own good. His face spoke volumes about his animosity anyhow.

"He will," Deakins said casually. "And you will curb yourself or you'll join him on desk duty." The captain saw the detective flinch. He was not willing to play kindergarten. They had work to do. Stabler rose his head, just about to say something. "And if I were you, I'd keep my mouth firmly shut." Deakins glowered at Stabler, but at Goren as well, including the big detective in this threat. "I swear I'll put you both in a small office and lock it. I will personally pick up the remains before I call it a day. Can we continue now?"

"Yes, sir," both of them said. Goren's was rather mumbled and Stabler's hid a note of sarcasm.

"Goren?"

"The victims' profile is correct. We just have to assume that the connection between the last two women also is the connection between all of them."

Stabler snorted.

"And this is me," Goren murmured. He looked embarrassed. "If you ask me for an offender's profile now I'm telling you that. As far as we know the series started with Perkins. Well, we should not exclude that there were others before her and resume our investigation in this field. That he ordered the tickets months in advance and paid cash tells us that he already had a plan and that his vague MO with the first vic either was planned, too, or actually a sign for an inexperienced offender. Personally I don't believe that he's a beginner.

"This plan also leads me to another interesting point and that's that this guy may be a narcistic sociopath. That means that his pathology contains a need for attention. He's not killing because a third, unknown and obscure party tells him to kill, or because he's insane. This guy made the decision to kill. And it is my attention he's craving for."

"Stephanie Fountain does not fit into this profile," Stabler threw in.

"She was no regular victim, that's right," Goren answered, unimpressed. "I tend to believe that he wanted to send a message."

"What kind of message?" Deakins wanted to know.

Goren shrugged. "I don't have answers for every question."

Once more Stabler snorted.

"Maybe we should ask Nicole," Goren suggested.

"Nicole?" Eames cut in. "What the hell has she to do with this case?"

"I don't know. But she told me something when I spoke with her this morning." He turned to the photos on the board and pointed at the posture of the bodies again. "She said,_ love can build a bridge, it's a bridge, not an arch_."

"You spoke with Nicole?" Eames could not believe it. They had been sitting in an office all morning, watching security tapes, and he had not even mentioned her.

"Nicole's out of the question," Deakins said.

Goren looked at him, puzzled. "Why?"

"She lawyered up. Her attorney told me that he would make an effort for to get a restraining order against you. He did not tell me on which basis, but he sounded serious. So I already assigned Jackson and Kendall to the case."

"We have to talk with her again. You remember that she was found drugged and cuffed?"

Eames was baffled. _How did this happen?_

"While I was thinking it over, I came to the conclusion that she knows this guy. It might have been him who turned her over to the police. Maybe she turned against him because he's determined to mess with me."

"Don't you overrate yourself by assuming that?" Stabler asked. He kept his voice casually but his features still held sarcasm.

"At least _you_ won't be the one talking with her, Goren," Deakins stated. "Let Eames do the talking. Apart from that I was ambushed by this PI again, Kirkpatrick. As if it wouldn't be enough that I have the brass on my back, this guy's getting on my nerves. So you'll bury the hatchet before I'll have to intervene. Clear?" He looked from one to the other intently. "Good. Go on." With that he left the office.

Stabler leaned back and glowered at Goren. His unconcealed resentment poisoned the atmosphere. In the meantime Goren also was annoyed with Stabler. So even with Deakins' mild threat it was obvious that they were short of beating each other up.

"So how can this profile help us to get this guy?" Eames threw into the uncomfortable silence.

"Maybe we should give a thoroughly worded statement to the press," Goren mused. "Trigger a reaction. He wants attention. This message certainly is demanding for more attention."

"You think he feels neglected?" Benson wanted to know.

"In his opinion?" Slowly he nodded. "Yes, he thinks his work goes unnoticed."

"And what, do you think, has Nicole to do with him?" Eames challenged.

"How shall I know?" he grumbled. "We were talking about Ewan and Bernard and I was just about to leave, when she made this remark. She threatened me and said that we were wrong, it would not be an arch but a bridge. _Love can build a bridge_."

"What did she mean? That he thinks that these women love him?"

Goren thought about that, then he shook his head. "He's too rational to get lost in such fantasies. He rather will think that he loves the women or… that he treats them with love. This also remains an illusion. He won't be capable of true feelings."

"Is it possible that she has her information out of the news? That she is once more only playing with you?" Eames remained cautious as long as Nicole was concerned.

"This also may be possible," he conceded. He sensed that she was angry. But he honestly had forgotten to tell her about his meeting with Nicole, because his mind had been occupied with the case. He looked remorseful. "I'm sorry."

_What is he apologizing for_, Stabler wondered. He could not know about Nicole and the significance of her appearance. He knew that something was going on, but he and Benson still were left aside. At least he felt left aside and that annoyed him even more.

"Okay," Benson meddled in. "You said that this guy is turning against women you know to do what, to challenge you?"

Goren nodded.

"Then we should warn the women closest to you," she suggested. "How about relatives, sisters, cousins?"

"I don't have female relatives except of my mother," Goren answered willingly.

"Current girlfriend, ex-girlfriend. How about neighbors?"

Goren shook his head. He knew what he should talk about, yet could not bring himself to do it. He felt his partner's gaze on himself and sensed the tension which was building between them. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Stabler. So far he did not know how to take him, how to react to him. So he was reluctant to share his thoughts with him. It was different with Benson. Maybe Eames was right, maybe it was because she was female. Stabler? He did not know. At first it was the unknown, a simple dislike due to departmental rivalries and rumors. Then it changed to suspicion and annoyance, and now he felt pure rage build up inside of his colleague. He was not quite innocent, he also made his mistakes. Yet, he was not prepared to offer a truce to the guy who obviously was not only fuming, he also did enjoy to mess with him. He eyed the younger man closely.

With an I-know-what-you're-hiding expression the SVU detective was looking right at the one person who was closest to him. Eames.

xxx

**unknown location**

_What the hell happened to you Bobby? I expected you to come to the hotel, work the scene and question the witnesses. But you did not even show._

He scratched his head and continued to clean his weapons.

_And I have tried so hard to find the perfect witnesses. A couple who would show you that I know a lot about you. They will offer you such a good lead and then it is dead end._

_Sorry, Bobby. But it would have been too easy for you if I'd used my credit card, don't you think?_

He chuckled_. And what will Nicole tell you? If she will give me up? She is still so furious about you making her give up Gwen. I wonder if this rage outnumbers the rage towards me, for drugging and turning her over to the police._

_Nicky can be so stubborn. _This made him giggle_. I can remember a time when she insisted on being called Coco. She had jeans and a shirt on, heavy boots for such a little girl, and two braids._

_There she was, standing under the eucalyptus tree in the garden, stomping her feet and screaming her lungs out with mulish stubbornness. She had her plush kangaroo in her arms and she almost tore it to pieces in her rage._

_And then she's sweet as can be. She did vie with the kookaburras in laughing, raced with the lambs and hunted swarms of parakeets. She swarmed the ladies on barbecues and not a single one could resist the sparkling little devil in disguise._

He knew that not only her father had been responsible for her turning into a soulless demon. Her old man had not been the only one who abused her.

_My little princess. You never told me if you can remember our intimate hours. Well, I suppose, if you did, you would have killed me by now._

He smiled at the memories. When he closed his eyes he could feel her skin under his touch. Soft and smooth, tanned like milk coffee.

_And later on you slept with me. Voluntarily this time. You're a wildcat and an angel, fire and ice, sugar and spice._

_If Linda's little brat also has such soft skin? Maybe I should try and get her. Maybe._

For now he would be satisfied with Linda herself. It was time for her. He would have to prepare her afterwards not to leave traces. And then she would go back.

Back to Bobby.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Finally they began to talk with each other. Still it was reluctant talk and Goren could help himself and tell them anything personal. He just talked about the case and nothing else, not even to Eames. If he was not addressed he remained silent. Stabler did the same. Benson tried to mediate between them.

Eames wanted to act as normal as possible. She was diplomatic towards the SVU colleagues, but was definitely pissed off with her partner.

Brooding over the files and busy not to speak to each other the four detectives were hanging in their chairs when Logan came into the task room. The tension was palpable. He frowned at them.

"We're calling it a day," he declared. "Maybe you should follow our example." Logan studied his colleagues. "Barek would like to play pool. How about going for a game? Eames?"

"Yeah, why not," she sighed and closed the file she had been reading. "I could do with some distraction."

"What about you Goren?"

He squinted up at him. "You will need a fourth player, won't you." He dropped against the backrest and brushed over his hair with both hands. "We should quit for today. This is taking us nowhere."

"And you two?" Logan turned to the SVU detectives.

"When we're calling it a day I should go home to my kids," Stabler said. Inwardly he rolled his eyes. _Goren and pool? Thanks but no thanks_. Yet, Logan was not Goren. "But thanks for the invitation."

"One or two games just to relax would be great," Benson said. "C'mon, Elliot. We should go with them. At least for a hour or two, having dinner."

He glowered at his partner. _Why did I know that you would say something like that?_ She had this stubborn glimmer in her eyes that he knew so well. If he refused to go with them he would be in for a hard time with her tomorrow.

"For dinner," he grumbled, still frowning.

Benson smiled. As they got up she handed him his leather jacket.

"I'll meet you downstairs," Goren said. He already headed out, going to Deakins.

"Okay," Logan smiled. "This will be fun. See you."

He left fast, searching for Barek, because he had to tell her that it had been her idea to go to the pool hall.

Almost two hours later they had had dinner and were just about to finish their second game. Barek played with Logan and Goren against the other three detectives. She did not care if Goren did not talk tonight. He was a good player and let them win again. Thinking about it he had hardly spoken at all. But he stayed, and right then sank the eight ball that ended this game.

"Yeah, Bobby! You did it again!" she cheered. "Mike, we're winning tonight!"

"Great that you're having fun," her partner replied. "I just don't think that they're very interested." He pointed at the others and they both chuckled.

"Doesn't matter," Barek laughed and joined them.

Goren also looked at them. He saw Stabler joke around with the three women and felt renewed annoyance rise. Annoyance not only with Stabler but also with himself… and his inability to bond with the other detectives. When he saw him crack a joke and everyone laughed, he was certain that he was the person of interest. Usually it did not bug him, but tonight it did.

So Goren circled the pool table and approached Stabler. When the SVU detective saw him coming, he straightened up. His grin vanished from his features as he opposed Goren.

For nearly a minute the two cops just stood opposite to each other. Their stares locked.

"You want to play pool?" Goren growled, his face just inches away from Stabler's. "You're holding a bet?"

A mischievous grin tugged at Stabler's mouth. _The head case wants to challenge me?_ "What kind of a bet?" he snarled.

"Three games. If I win you stop harassing me."

_You want to decide that by a pool game? You really are crazy_. "And if you lose?"

"Then it's your decision."

"Just that?" Stabler frowned.

"Just that."

Still their stares were locked. Each of them was trying to read in the eyes of the other. Stabler could not find signs of insincerity. Goren found clear proof of a challenge.

"Each game the loser will buy drinks for all of us," Stabler said.

"Okay."

"You start." He made one step back to let Goren pass.

"Wait, boys!" Barek shouted. She grabbed for the triangle and the balls to arrange them. "You need a judge. Who shall be the referee?"

"You're okay with Mike?" Goren suggested.

"Yeah, I am. Now start."

Goren aimed carefully and could sink two balls with his first shot. A third followed, then he missed. Now Stabler let two of his balls follow. Finally the first game went to Goren.

So Stabler started the second game. It was very close. In the end they were both trying to get the eight ball into the pocket opposite of their last ball. This time Stabler won.

Their colleagues had fun watching them. They all marveled at how seriously the two men were taking this duel.

"You agree to raise the stake?" Stabler asked when their drinks were served.

"What do you have on mind?" Goren asked cautiously. He was on his guard against surprises but could not find malice in Stabler's words and play of features. There was just this mischievous grin that let his blue eyes sparkle.

"If I win you're going to talk with us. I mean without your partner pulling each word out of your nose. You're going to try and interact with us."

_Why not_, Goren thought. _I have to try nevertheless_. "As long as you stop being such an asshole," he said.

"Deal," Stabler agreed. "You start again."

* * *

A/N: I don't know if this is interesting for you, but in our version of "Art" they are speaking French. I was quite surprised when I finally got my S1 DVDs and heard them talk in German.

Please don't forget to review. It's done so fast and makes so happy! Thanks, folks.

_Translation:_

_"Kommen Sie, bitte."_ – Please come with me." _"Ich bin Detective Robert Goren. Darf ich Sie um Ihren Namen bitten?"_ – "I am Detective Robert Goren. May I ask for your name?"

_"Sie können Deutsch mit mir sprechen. Ich habe es gelernt, als ich in Deutschland stationiert war."_ – "You can talk to me in German. I've learned it when I was stationed in Germany."

_"Erzählen Sie mir, wie Sie die Frau gefunden haben,"_ – "Tell me how you've discovered the woman."


	10. Chapter 9

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: This chapter is for all my reviewers and readers. A big Easter-egg for you, maybe some reviews for me…

Sorry, _Confused_, Alex was not intended to be so harsh as she might have appeared. Hope I can get it better now. And I don't know, why the pool game became so long, it just happened and I don't know how to shorten it. It all seems to be important. Have some faith in Bobby.

I really appreciate your opinions. Please give me some. It's the only way I can get better. I have no idea if I even reached _good_ so far, but if you stop to try and get better, than you stop to be good. I don't want to stop, I want to develop. Please help me with your review. Thank you!

**9**

Barek set the balls. Cautiously she removed the triangle for Goren to take the first shot. The big detective bowed over the table and aimed carefully. It was a straight shot that sent two balls into the pockets. For a moment Goren stared at the scene on the green cloth. When he finally made his decision, he missed. The ball touched the cushion on the rim of the pocket and did not fall. Yet, this pocked was now sealed by his ball.

"Ugh, bad luck," Eames exclaimed and slapped her thighs. "This should have been in."

"But it isn't," Goren replied lightly. "It's Stabler's turn." Saying that he threw a challenging look in the detective's direction.

Eames could not shrug that off so simply. She harbored the feeling that she had been wrong in judging Stabler. Now she suspected that he would not let Goren off the hook so easily. If Goren would not win now, Stabler would remain the asshole he tried to prove to be the whole day… at least towards her partner. And she honestly had thought that he only acted out… and would let himself be proven wrong once Goren made up the profile.

Stabler smirked when he picked up his cue again. This would become interesting. He had watched Goren and looked at him now. When their eyes met, he grinned. To be honest he had been quite surprised that Goren suggested this duel. He had accepted the challenge because it seemed to be the best way to get out of this stuck situation and clear some things between themselves. He also was not as oblivious to the resentments of Eames as he seemed to be. He had noticed that she became annoyed with him, too. That had been why he refused to come along with them to the pool hall at first, and the same reason why Benson had asked him to accompany them.

Goren also watched Stabler. Right now he saw him bow over the table and take aim. Then the SVU detective changed his mind and aimed for another ball. This shot would be more difficult. By the posture and energy radiating from Stabler Goren could tell that he most likely had been right. He had challenged Stabler and he had accepted it. Now he had returned the challenge to Goren when he had asked for to raise the stake. And that had been what Goren had expected and waited for. To put a change in behavior on stake was giving them the opportunity to do that and to save their faces as well. The deal Stabler suggested was good for Goren. Now he had to let him win.

The white ball approached the other, collided… the ball vanished.

Stabler actually sank it. Goren was perplexed. He was a good player himself, but he doubted that he would have managed that shot. While he watched Stabler continue his eyes fell on Eames. She seemed to be worried, but he did not know why. _If she does not follow me this time? Is she taking this for real? _This was not the moment to talk with her about it.

The next shot was not much easier but Stabler also sank this.

So Goren wondered about how important this _let win_ would be in his plan.

"He's good," Barek whispered to Eames. "And he's cute."

"And married," Eames grumbled. She had lost her interest in any banter.

"Don't you enjoy yourself?" Barek wanted to know.

"Not anymore."

"Because Bobby is about to lose this game?" Barek was astonished. She did not know her colleague as so overprotective.

_No, because he's about to lose the last bit of respect Stabler meets him with_, she thought miserably and nursed her drink.

"Alex," Barek almost was upset. "They're just playing."

"They're not _just_ playing, Caro."

"Yes, they are. Do you miss these mischievous sparks in your partner's eyes?"

Eames frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you get it?" Even as she got excited Barek kept her voice low. "Bobby has challenged him! He's going to let him win because he wants this deal, Alex."

Eames' frown deepened.

"What are you whispering, ladies?" Logan wanted to know. He just returned with the drinks, Stabler had to pay for. When he looked at Eames he also frowned. "What? Are you worried? Don't you trust your partner anymore?"

_Are they really seeing something I've missed_, Eames wondered. She looked at the boys again. The features of Goren did not give anything away. One brow was raised with concentration. He followed Stabler's every action.

"You really don't want to do that, do you?" Goren asked.

Stabler squinted at him, the cue still aimed. "What do you mean?"

"This shot. You don't want to play it."

"Oh, yes, I want to," Stabler replied and his grin returned. "I want to get your cooperation tomorrow."

"You will miss that."

"No…" he said, took aim and shot. Everyone watched the ball until it vanished into the pocket. "…I won't."

Now only one ball remained. Stabler's best shot would lead to the side pocket blocked by Goren's ball to be the one which he would have to hit with the eight ball. Another shot would be possible but was quite more difficult. Though, in case he managed to sink it, he would also have free access to the eight ball, lying comfortably opposite of his last ball.

Goren felt shivers on his back. Suddenly he realized that Stabler actually planned to do exactly that. He circled the table. When he passed Eames on this way he lightly squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. When he looked at her afterwards he offered her the smallest of smiles.

Eames shuddered. _Does he really do this on purpose?_ It did not happen often that she lost track of him. Should this be one of those rare occasions? She glanced at Logan. He was grinning, too, as was Barek. Benson seemed to be totally unimpressed.

"Did you let us win the other games?" Goren wanted to know, interrupting Stabler's flow of play again.

Stabler looked up at him, rolling his eyes. He glanced at his partner. "The only way to still get Liv to play with me."

"She was in your team."

"I mean when we're playing with our squad."

"How long have you been playing pool as sport?"

Stabler grimaced at Goren. "Never." A smirk found its way out. "I was playing for money."

"You know your part of the deal?" Goren asked, closing in on Stabler, getting in his personal space from diagonally behind. "You shall stop being such an ass," he whispered in his ear.

Stabler turned his head to look him directly in the eyes. "I already would have stopped, if you wouldn't steadily aim at annoying me."

"I don't," Goren murmured back.

"But you do."

"Yeah, well… maybe as much as you don't try to be an asshole then."

Stabler grinned mischievously.

"So you were playing for money?" Goren asked, passing to Stabler's other side. The SVU detective nodded. "Want to take a side bet? On this shot?" He nodded towards the table.

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted to play the corner pocket, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Ten to one that you'll miss it."

"Ten bucks?"

"Okay."

Eames gasped. It was the first time she saw Goren bet on something he could not look up in a book. She had learned the hard way and lost such bets against him as did Carver and Deakins, as well as Barek and Logan. She knew he liked to bet, but it never had been a game like that.

"You owe me one hundred dollars," Stabler smirked. "And another root beer."

"At first you should sink it," Goren taunted.

Slowly Stabler bowed over the table again to play the next shot. He took his time and thought about it carefully before he actually shot.

They all caught their breaths as the white ball bounced back from the cushion towards the blue one, hit it and… it went right into the corner pocket.

"Wow," Logan exclaimed. "That was a great…" he trailed off.

"No," Stabler breathed, who also saw what Logan had noticed. The white ball continued towards the side… and hit the ball blocking the pocket, letting it fall… and bringing Goren back into the game. "No! Shit!" He hit his forehead with the flat hand. "Damn!"

"Thanks, Stabler," Goren teased. "I may owe you one hundred bucks, but you may pay for your root beer yourself."

"Yeah, yeah." Stabler glowered at Goren, but a grin tucked at the corners of his mouth. "You still have to win the game. It's not over yet."

"We'll see."

Eames was astonished. She could hardly believe that Goren became so relaxed in Stabler's presence. He now aimed for one of his balls. It smoothly dropped into the pocket. He missed the next shot, but two of his balls were blocking the white on its way to Stabler's.

"You did this on purpose, hm?" Stabler asked. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to disappoint you." He aimed at the white ball in a steep angle. When he shot, it jumped over the balls and hit the eight ball to let it vanish. Stabler put his cue on the table's rim. Goren circled the table, holding out his hand.

"Well done, Stabler," he said, shaking the other man's hand. "You're right. I owe you a root beer."

Side by side they went to the bar to get the drinks.

"So you really were playing for money?" Goren asked as they waited.

"Yeah. In addition to the job I had in the time between the marines and police academy. I could pay the rent, but pool sometimes was what kept bread on the table." He grinned at Goren. "But if you're going to tell my wife, I'll have to kill you."

"And I'm going to have to kill you, in case you're telling Eames that this was show."

Stabler chuckled. "Not all of it, I guess."

"Yeah. You being an ass was for real."

"I had a bad hair day and to be called out in the middle of the night didn't make it better. Sorry. I apologize." He looked at him intently. "Thanks for offering a way out. I'm going to try and behave myself. Just don't push us aside again, okay? Don't leave us out."

The barkeeper put the drinks on the counter. Both men took their beer and clank the bottles, before they drank.

"Okay," Goren agreed.

xxx

Eames saw them clink the bottles and was both, relieved and annoyed. Yes, it looked as if they would get along with each other now, but she was angry nevertheless.

_Why am I angry_, she wondered._ At myself because I did not interpret the small signs between the boys correctly? At Bobby because he did not tell me that he was challenging Stabler for to achieve a truce? Or am I just mad with Bobby because he has talked with Nicole? Alone? That he left me out?_

When the boys were back she just took several sips of her drink before she grabbed her stuff, ready to leave.

"You want to go?" Barek asked and she nodded.

"I'll give you a lift," Goren offered. He backed off a little when she squinted up at him. "Can I take you home, Eames?"

He seemed to be eager to leave with her. To be alone with her? To be able to talk freely?

"Okay," she agreed. He accompanied her out and to his car. She kept waiting, but during the entire ride he did not say a single word. Parking on the curb in front of her apartment building they were sitting wordlessly in their seats. She was just about to get out when he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Eames. I should have told you."

"What should you have told me?"

"About Nicole."

_Well, at least he seems to know what he has done wrong_. She sighed.

"Why did you talk with her… alone? You know what she's like. She's always messing with your head."

"I should have waited for you, but I did not know when you'd be back and I… I have to admit… that I really was curious to find out what had happened to her."

"You shouldn't have interrogated her."

"I wasn't. We were just talking."

"You know that she's never _just talking_!"

For a moment he just looked at her thoughtfully before he nodded. "Yeah. I was so consumed with the case that I didn't give it another thought. And Deakins didn't either."

"The captain's another case!" Thinking of him made her furious again. But the whole day had been a horror trip. "I'm sorry, too," she breathed.

"What for?"

"My behavior. I wanted to show you that it wouldn't hurt to work with them together. I may have overshot the mark. I'm sorry."

He did not answer right away. A small smile touched his lips. "I wanted you to bond with them… to make a connection between us."

"That may be right, but I started it the wrong way."

"I'm glad you started it at all. I should have reacted differently to Stabler." He paused. "I was astonished but still amused that you called each other by first name so fast. When did that happen?"

"Right after breakfast," she said. "They're calling each other by first name constantly and Benson asked me if it would be okay for me, too. I shouldn't have agreed."

"Why not?"

"I excluded you by doing that. I did not want to exclude you. You already had a bad time. I'm sorry, Bobby."

For a long moment he remained silent. When she did not expect it anymore he finally answered.

"It hurt. But it's forgotten now. Don't feel guilty anymore."

"Are you okay with Stabler now?"

He shrugged. "The deal's okay. I guess we found a basis for our work relationship now. Let's see how it's going to work."

"You're going to be okay?" she asked, lightly touching his cheek with her fingertips.

"Yeah, I will." He looked at her, smiling. "I'll walk you in."

"Oh no, you won't!" Eames laughed. "Why should you? Don't you think I can walk on my own?"

"I just want to make sure you're going to be okay, too."

"I will be able to reach my apartment on my own, Bobby. I'm not drunk. Thank you."

"Then flicker with your lights as soon as you're in, okay."

Now she stared at him, puzzled. "Okay, Goren. What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing's sitting with Humpty Dumpty on the wall and knitting sweaters. What's wrong with you?"

He did not answer right away, but even in the dim light of the streetlights she could see that he blushed.

"Is it because of this guy?" Eames demanded to know. "C'mon, talk with me. Is it because of him?"

For a moment he just stared at her. Then he slightly nodded.

"You're worried? Do you think he could be after me? Don't be ridiculous!"

"I don't find anything ridiculous about caring for you. You're my partner. It's my job to protect you. I'm just doing my job."

"Don't go too far, Sherlock," she warned. "I can take care of my own. I'm trained to do that. And I have a gun."

"I know."

"Then you'll stay here and I will go upstairs. Don't try to follow me."

"I would not follow you." He glowered at her, offended. "Would you offer me your sofa?"

She punched his shoulder, laughing. "No, I won't! I don't need a babysitter, so you won't come with me. I'll flicker with my lights, but nothing else. Night, Bobby."

She got out of the car and waved at him from the entrance of the building. Goren waited until the lights in her apartment went on and a few minutes later flickered. Then he lowered the backrest of his seat and prepared himself for the night.

"Sweet dreams, Eames," he murmured.

xxx

**unknown location**

**next day around 8 a.m.**

Linda could not tell which day it was. Was it day at all? Or was it night? She had no possibility to determine that. When he came back this time he did not beat her, he did not violate her and he did not humiliate her. He just handed her a light cotton dress, beige with multicolored dots, and told her to get dressed.

Then he cuffed her hands behind her back and gagged her with tape.

She was dragged out of the door and up a stairwell. Blinding light embraced her when she left whatever it was where she was held prisoner. Her eyes could not adjust to the brightness, but she felt grass and soil under her bare feet. Then she was pushed inside of a van.

Endless seemed the ride to be.

Through the blackened glass of the windows nothing could be seen. After a long while Linda could hear traffic. After the long time in silence it was almost deafening.

_If we're back in the city? Have we left New York at all? Or is this another city?_

She lay on her side and had no choice but to wait for whatever might come. Slowly she readjusted to the noises.

When the car stopped, nothing happened at first. She heard him rummage and dial tones of a cell phone. Then silence. Well, relative silence compared to the traffic.

He climbed in the back of the van and knelt down beside her to undo the cuffs and remove the tape. One of the halves he closed around his own left wrist and threw a light jacket over it.

"If you come with me without any fuss you might see your brat again," he hissed and opened the back door.

She scrambled to her feet and followed him out. Once more she was blinded by light. Only when they entered a house it became better and she could make out where she was going. She was dragged into a lift and later down a hall.

A couple came from the front and Linda stared at them expectantly. The woman glanced at her disgustful but passed without any question. On the contrary, she urged her husband to go faster to avoid the strange couple.

_Help me,_ Linda thought. _Oh please, help!_

She threw a glance over her shoulder and stumbled along. In front of apartment 8G he stopped. With a picklock he opened the door and pushed Linda inside.

They were in a small flat with just a large living room, a kitchenette, a bathroom and a bedroom. Linda was under the impression that it belonged to a woman. The whole interior had a feminine touch.

He guided her into the bedroom and released the cuff.

"Lay down on the bed," he told her.

And she followed the order. What she had to expect she could not tell. It might be humiliating or painful, but if she had a chance to see Jamie again, she would endure it.

He looked around the room in search for something he could use. When he spotted an item he picked it up and went to the bed.

"Take off the dress."

Once more she submitted to his wishes. Slowly she sat up and pulled the dress over her head. Beside the bed she let it fall.

"Lay down prone."

So she started to stretch on the plaid.

"No, head to the end, honey."

When it had to be… she turned and lay down. In only a second he was over her.

"Don't scream. If you scream I'll go and kill your brat."

It was only the thought of Jamie and her survival that kept her from expressing the pain that filled her when he used the object he had found to sodomize her. Then he grabbed her legs and flipped her on her back. As she lay there underneath him he took another piece and raped her.

Tears streamed over her face and she whimpered and sobbed heartbreakingly. Each thrust let her slide towards the bed's end until her head hung over. The next shoved her shoulders over the rim.

When he got a knife out, it happened so fast that she did not even notice it. In rich splashes her life left her body.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Goren had managed to wake up quite early. He had minor problems to get out of the car to stretch. Then he checked on Eames' building before he went to get coffee and danishs. Just before she was usually ready to leave he was back at her house, ringing her bell. Eames had been astonished to find him on her threshold so early and she frowned at him with mild suspicion which grew when she saw that he wore the same suit as the day previous.

_Have you been at home_, she had asked and he had refused to answer. She knew he had not been home, otherwise she would not have asked. So she ate her danish, climbed in his car and remained silent for the time they needed to get to One Police Plaza.

There had not been any news. When Benson and Stabler arrived they continued to discuss the case for a while, then Benson and Eames left to question more people and to try and find someone who might have seen the killer. The men stayed at the squad room, searching for a vital clue in the files.

Lazily leaning back, his feet on the corner of the table, Stabler sat in the office chair with a file in his lap. Goren was pacing again.

"This goddamned sergeant of the 1-7," Goren grumbled. "He hasn't put the least bit of effort in this case. Eames would have said due to the other two thousand cases they had to deal with, but that doesn't change the fact that we have hardly information about Perkins."

Stabler glanced up at him. He watched him for a moment before he decided to address him.

"Is there any chance you could stop that?" he asked.

Goren froze in his track. "Stop what?"

"That," he made a circling hand gesture. "You're making me seasick."

This remark triggered a snorting laugh of Goren. He shrugged and dropped into another chair.

"What is it that makes you really this restless?" Stabler demanded to know. He eyed him closely, knowing that his chances for an answer were slim.

"I'm worried for Linda," Goren admitted. He knew he had to talk to someone, and if he did not want to share his thoughts with Eames he had to chose someone else. "And I'm worried for whoever may follow her. Once she's found he needs a new victim to serve his pathologic needs."

"You already said that. Still, your theory about the last two women to be selected because you know them sounds… strange."

Goren snorted, getting up again. "I _am_ strange. You didn't notice that?"

"Oh, yeah, I did notice… borders on crazy." He intended to let that sound funny, but as he saw the Goren turn to him and the look on his face he doubted that he was understood this way. "Hey, wasn't meant that way," he hurried to explain. He must have hit a sensitive spot. Well, he could understand that. All the rumors did not go unnoticed. "I mean it isn't as if you would have a history of mental illnesses in your family…"

Goren's piercing stare let him stop immediately. Stabler swallowed. Unintentionally he had said something that hit very close to home.

"Pursue this path and I'll show you how crazy I can really be," Goren roared, closing in on Stabler, getting in his face.

"I don't know anything. It was just…" Stabler stared into the brown orbs and was overwhelmed by Goren's intensity. "That was not…"

"I don't have to justify myself, above all not to a lose cannon like you!"

"_You_ see _me_ as a lose cannon?" Stabler breathed, more than surprised to hear that, even more as it came from Goren, who was considered to be a nutcase by the whole department.

Goren eyed him thoughtfully. "Well… you're known for to have quite an attitude. And you're not easy to get along with. You showed me how much of an ass you can be."

This left Stabler really dumbfounded.

"I really was, hm?" he asked tentatively. "I'm not used to guys like you. Is there something you might want to explain?"

Thinking about that Goren backed off and leaned against the pin board, his head tilted to the right, arms crossed over his chest. He was not sure whether he should answer this request or not. Either way it could go from bad to worse. He was not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve and still tried to judge if any confession from his side would not be round all the precincts by next day's end. Once burnt, twice shy. Still, he had to make a decision.

"Your squad is all voluntary, right?" he started cautiously.

Stabler nodded, equally cautious.

"And normally the detectives are assigned to it for two years. You're with SVU how long now?"

"Touché," Stabler said. "What do you want to tell me? That I can't be normal if I stay with this squad for such a long time? Think of what to say, you might offend my partner by implying that she's not normal either.."

Goren smiled at Stabler's protectiveness. Benson was almost as long with SVU as Stabler. And they were their squad's equivalent to Eames and himself at Major Case.

"IAB has it in for you. Word is that you can be easily annoyed and that you exaggerate playing the bad cop."

"Very nice description. Careful wording."

"Two times suspended, one time on the verge of being dishonorable dismissed. You're not calling this a lose cannon?"

Stabler frowned deeply and ground his teeth. He could not deny that he was annoyed right now, but he also was curious. "Anything more?"

"You have to deal with the abysses of human nature. This can cause severe traumata…"

"You sound like Jackson," Stabler cut him short.

"Who's Jackson?"

"You know so much about me and don't know Jackson?" He grimaced. "She's the shrink who almost cost me my career. This has been the ominous_ dishonorable_ _dismissed_. She did a psych evaluation and told Cragen I'd be close to blow. I can get rough on people but I'm not crazy. No one can tell me what and what not to think about. And yes, something like this makes me very angry." Yes, he also sounded very annoyed now. "I have a wife and four kids. All I want is, to try and achieve a bit more security for them and everyone else."

"So you're purely idealistic?"

"You don't survive in a unit like special victims if you're not dedicated to this job."

"Just dedicated or obsessed?" Goren pressed.

"I could easily return this question to you," Stabler tossed the ball back in Goren's court, getting up from his perch. "Or should I question you about possession?"

The big detective smiled inwardly. He already wondered when Stabler would lose his coolness. Actually he believed the job the detectives with SVU did to be more difficult than what they were doing at MCS. In his opinion they were the true elite of New York's Finest because they had to face the most heinous felonies imaginable… and often the victims were children.

Truth be told, he did not think that he would be able to do this job permanently. It would give him truly bad headaches by day and more nightmares by night. And maybe, just maybe, it would finally drive him over this thin line he always feared to cross… and end up being institutionalized together with his Mom.

It was not easy for him to admit, but he admired Stabler and Benson for their ability to do this hard, emotionally demanding and yet so desperately needed job. He could understand that they might kick over the traces from time to time.

He had asked to call them in. His only concern now was, that he still did not know what to expect from them.

"Tit for tat," he agreed. "You answered my questions, now it's my turn."

As a matter of fact, Stabler had not expected his consent. Too contradictory were the rumors which circulated through the department. Mostly to hear were that the quirky detective was nuts and unbearable to work with. And that he talked a lot, yet not about himself but very much incomprehensible stuff like profiles. Last but not least he had the habit to have just one last word to say…

He almost could feel the stare with which Goren observed him. He felt like he was dissected. Well, that was something he also could easily return, and the brows over his sapphire eyes furrowed.

"No, I'm not possessed. Even if this might be one of the most common rumors," Goren said, cringing slightly under the piercing stare. "I just can't explain myself."

"Oh." Slowly Stabler nodded. "That's all? You don't contradict that you're believed to be nuts?"

Goren shrugged. "That's old. I have to live with that since I became detective." Truth be told… a lot longer.

"But you don't deny it?"

"It's no use in denying that. By the way: Letting them believe keeps them away from me."

Stabler thought about that. "But wouldn't you prefer respect over suspicion?"

"I have the respect of the ones who count… at least for me." He cleared his throat. "And their trust."

"Must be difficult to maintain. Don't get me wrong, but a stunt like almost blowing up your partner and yourself definitely qualifies for a lose cannon, don't you think?"

Once more Stabler was surprised by an unexpected reaction. He would have bet that Goren would get angry. Instead of that he saw him blush now, a deep crimson red, right up to his hair-line.

"I… wasn't aware… that this circulated, too," he mumbled. "I… I really was… sorry. You can believe me that."

It was all Stabler could do not to show his amazement. The famous Robert Goren, king of interrogation, was actually stuttering.

"That's almost as known as the incident with Croyden," he said.

Goren snorted. "That wasn't my fault. It turned out that he did not commit suicide but was murdered."

"For to damage your reputation, as I have heard."

"For once the rumors are correct," Goren confirmed. "A suspect wanted to discredit me, so that my theory about her own crimes would sound unbelievable, that I wouldn't be trusted."

"It worked. I know some folks who still believe the first version," Stabler admitted.

This time Goren frowned. He decided to take the straight path this time. "Are you one of them?"

"No." Stabler chuckled. "I'm not. I'm trying to solve the mystery that's you."

"That's more than most people do," Goren mumbled.

But Stabler heard it nevertheless and was astonished to hear sadness in these words. "That's why I'm a cop, Goren. To solve mysteries."

His small but genuine smile was inviting and Goren could not resist to return it. When Stabler saw it, together with a passionate glow in the brown depths, one of the open, hilarious smiles he was famous for broke his features.

"Shall I get us a coffee?" he asked.

"That would be great," Goren agreed. "Thanks, Stabler."

He still stared at his SVU colleague when Stabler turned and headed for the door. Under the frame he stopped and pivoted again. Eyeing the big detective sympathetically he made up his mind.

"Elliot," he said and met an incredulous stare. "It's Elliot," he offered again.

A broad, still somewhat cautious, smile was the first response. Obviously he had to think this over.

"Bobby," Goren finally said.

"Okay."

Only now Stabler left to make the Starbucks run.

xxx

**Manhattan**

Even if it was just afternoon special agent Samantha Spade was tired. She was ready to fall onto her bed and to sleep without even getting undressed. But when she reached her apartment she forced herself to stop at her kitchenette first.

Sitting at the counter, head in her left hand for support, she waited for the instant meal to get hot into the microwave. She longed for a coffee but couldn't get herself up to make it. Even if she would have been able, she told herself that coffee only would prevent her from sleeping. And sleep she needed after a rough double shift.

So she ate the meal without even noticing what it was, just to supply her body with energy. Then she strolled to the bathroom.

That was when the thought of something being wrong crossed her mind for the first time. She shook her head and walked on. After finishing her go-to-bed-routine in only four minutes, she wandered to her bedroom and opened the door.

Sam froze in place.

She heard someone scream in shock only to notice seconds later that she was screaming herself.

_O no_, she thought. _Don't let Jack and the others let this know._ Despite of knowing better she felt shame. _Why haven't I smelled it before? It's pretty obvious now_.

Backwards she stumbled into the living room and to the phone to call…

_To call Jack? To call Major Case Squad?_

Finally she called One Police Plaza first, reaching captain Deakins personally, who assured her that the detectives would be on their way. Then she called Jack's cell phone. He promised her to be there in about half a hour and to inform Viv and Martin as well.

The first to arrive were neither of them but Bonasera and Messer.

Sam had regained her composure when she opened the door and gestured the CSIs to the bedroom. All three of them stopped at the door.

Onto Sam's bed lay, her head dangling over the rim, Linda Montagnolo. She seemed to stare right up to them, her open mouth forming the voiceless question 'why'. It was the same as with the other scenes. Her legs were crossed, the hands folded. And the mane of red was flooding to the floor, mixed with blood.

"He's killed her here," Danny gasped.

"You're kidding," Sam replied.

"No, he's not," Stella affirmed. "You can recognize it by the blood stains. She may have been drugged or unconscious when he brought her here, but he cut her throat when she was lying on the bed."

"Sam?" Jack strode in through the apartment's door she forgot to close. "Everything all right?"

"Honestly? Not really." Still she was pale.

xxx

Goren and Stabler looked up startled, as Deakins shot into the office. By the look of him Goren could tell, that he had bad news to deliver.

"We have another body," he said. "Stabler, where's your partner?"

"Gone again, questioning people," the SVU detective answered.

"Okay, then I'll call her cell phone. You'll go to the crime scene and meet her there." With that he handed him a note with the address.

Stabler just had a short look at it and followed Deakins out.

"Captain Deakins, sir," he said. "With all due respect, I think that Goren should come with us to the crime scene. Eames and Benson are in Brooklyn and it would take some time for her to come to the scene."

Deakins turned on his heels to face the detective. He knew about the rivalry between the men and was surprised by this request.

"While we were talking about the report of the Fountain case he pointed out some vital clues," Stabler explained. "His evaluation is of great value, but it's more difficult if you don't know the crime scene firsthand. We would appreciate it when he could examine the scene himself."

Deakins stared at him. Actually he was asked to withdraw Goren's desk duty. He did not want to do that. Deakins also did not know if he should reprimand or congratulate Stabler for his brazenness. As much as he appreciated that the detectives had found a way to bury the hatchet, he was not happy that he was approached in this way. He already thought about to order Logan to go with Stabler. Yet, he knew about Goren's sense for crime scenes… but it was only Thursday…

"Goren," he called for his lead detective. When he came out of the office he eyed him sharply. "Do you want to tell me something?"

"Sir?" puzzled he looked from his boss to Stabler and back.

"The feds…" Stabler whispered.

Goren glanced at him. "That I won't insult federal agents again?" he mused.

"Right. And if you mess this up, you're going to write that on the whiteboard, two hundred times," Deakins said. If it would not be his job to be the strict superior, he would have grinned at Goren's confused expression, but he kept his features stern. "You'll go with him," he told Goren, eying him sharply once more. "And when you're done with the scene I'll see your butt behind your desk again. Clear?"

"Yes, sir." Goren was way too surprised to think of something else. He left together with the SVU detective. "Shall I drive?" he asked his colleague on the ride down to the garage.

Stabler stared at him. "No," he contradicted with determination, shaking his head. "I heard about your ways with cars. I will drive."

"You already spent too much time with Eames."

This time Stabler grinned. "It wasn't her who told me that. And I won't tell tales."

Well, actually Goren had no problem with Stabler doing the driving. There were way too much things on his mind he had to deal with. "Why did you do that?" he asked lowly.

"You can call me selfish…" he grinned at him, "…but I just figured that you would most likely become a nervous wreck, once you know that this time it is Linda Montagnolo… and you were left behind. That would drive _me_ mad."

Goren stared at him, his eyes turning a deep dark chocolate with grief.

"You knew that we would find her murdered, right?" Stabler asked.

"As you knew as well," he said.

"There was no evidence that she was part of the string."

"Well… we have evidence now."

Stabler could hear sadness and grief in these words. They offered him a glimpse at what was really boiling inside of his fellow detective. Something quite bigger and deeper that was not readable if you did not know Goren better.

"It was just a matter of time," Goren continued. "And time just ran out. Now he's after a new victim."

xxx

While the CSIs began to work, the agents sat down in the kitchenette. When their other two colleagues reached her place, Viv made the coffee Sam refused to make not just a hour ago. Everyone of them was gladly sipping it, discussing the latest events, when Goren and Stabler arrived fifteen minutes later.

While the SVU detective gave a short 'hello' to the agents, Goren strode directly to the bedroom, where Danny marked evidence with numbers, taking photos of the whole scenery and the single traces in detail, and Stella dusted everything to get fingerprints. No one said a word. Cautiously Goren stepped in, not to ruin any possible trace. Stabler stopped at the door.

"Looks like the first we found," Goren stated, then he spotted the hair brush, the killer had used, and swallowed. "It's the same posture," he mumbled.

"Will confirm your theory, right?" Stabler asked.

"I don't want to be proven right," he snapped. "I wish we could have found her alive."

_Of course you do_, Stabler thought. _As everyone of us does_.

Carefully, not to step into traces, Goren squatted at the end of the bed. His look was caught by the open eyes of the dead woman. He put his left hand over his mouth, fighting the sick feeling that threatened him. The lump in his throat hardened._ I'm sorry_, he thought._ Oh God, I'm so sorry. This is my fault._ He studied her face and the cut throat.

"This it not your fault, Goren," Stabler said softly. "You may feel sorry, but this is not your fault."

_Damn! Have I said that aloud?_ As he raised his head to look at Bonasera he saw her giving him a small encouraging smile and knew he actually had. He withstood the temptation to brush over the red mane. The hair flooded down into the pool of blood on the ground.

Slowly he got up and slipped a pair of gloves on. His expression turned professional again and he bowed over the bed for a closer look.

"He has changed… or developed," he said, pointing to her wrists. "This doesn't seem to be caused by a rope. What do you think, Bonasera?"

"I do agree," she replied. "Guess it might have been cuffs."

"Yeah."

He bent deeper to examine the body. "Smells somewhat musty," he said.

If he would not have been so concentrated on what he did, he might have been alarmed again by the way Stabler arched his brows as he watched Goren inspect the scene. Right now Stabler could watch how Goren felt the body and then had a closer look at the woman's abdomen. He did not like what he saw, but he remained silent, determined to wait until Goren was finished.

"It's in her hair," Goren mumbled. "And this… injury," he subconsciously tried to put into words what the killer had done to Linda with the hair brush. "It testifies to an enormous rage. Enormous but controlled."

He continued with the crime scene, oblivious to his colleague still standing under the doorframe. Goren looked tired. It was not only in his features but in his whole body language.

Stabler wondered. During the drive he had been in high spirits, almost nervous. About the hunt, Stabler had thought. But now he wondered. His major case colleague was lost in thoughts, he could see that. What made him uneasy was the fact that Goren wasn't saying aloud what he got in mind about the killer.

Abruptly Goren turned and Stabler jumped out of his way, when he paced to the kitchenette.

"You shouldn't sit there, drinking coffee", Goren spat before Stabler could reach him.

"We didn't…" Martin prepared to say.

"What kind of behavior is that?" Goren was close to losing his temper now. To see the FBI agents made him nervous, to see them comfortably drinking coffee almost was the straw that broke the camel's back. "I don't mean that you do not respect her! Do you know if the killer was not in here, too?

"We supposed…"

"Don't suppose. That's the fault! You can't spoil a crime scene by making coffee! What are you thinking? Is that what they are teaching you at Quantico?" It took him some effort to keep his voice low.

Stabler saw Goren run into more days of desk duty if not suspension and stepped forward.

"Detective Goren is right," he said. "Just because this crime scene happens to be in Agent Spades apartment does not mean that you have anything to say here. This is a NYPD investigation. You're not responsible…"

"Detective," Jack Malone interrupted him with the low soothing tone he usually used when talking to relatives of missing persons. "No one is threatening to undermine your investigation…"

"But you're spoiling the scene," Goren stated.

"We are not spoiling the scene," Jack contradicted with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "We also know how to handle a crime scene. And Agent Spade will be at your disposal for to give her statement."

"We should do that at the station."

"Then we'll meet you there in about one hour," Jack said.

Goren frowned but agreed.

"And don't insinuate that we don't care. We are concerned. About her," he tilted his head towards the bedroom, "and about her," looking to Sam.

Before Goren had a chance to open his mouth, Stabler nudged his side, and Goren glowered at him.

"I don't think you have to be worried," Goren said, staring first at Sam than at Jack. "This isn't about warning her, she might be the next. This is about telling us, that she could have been and he refused to take her." He fired a look at Jack. Then he left the apartment, Stabler right behind him.

xxx

"Wait," Stabler shouted. "Just wait." He almost had to run to catch up with Goren. "What was this in there?"

But Goren did not stop. He also did not stop to wait for the elevator. He ran down the stairs, shot out on the street and away in the direction of their car. Stabler followed a few yards behind. He saw his colleague reel and finally stop. Goren leaned against a streetlight with his back, bowed, clutching his knees and breathing heavily. Stabler suspected that it wasn't the run that made him gasp for breath. Slowly he stepped closer.

Goren grabbed his head and it seemed to Stabler as if he was trying to press something out of it.

"Hey, Goren. Talk to me. What's up?" he asked.

For more than a minute, which stretched for him to eternity, he didn't react at all. Then his hands fell down. He took a deep breath and straightened up.

"It's him," he answered.

Stabler almost couldn't hear him. "Who? Malone?"

He smiled wryly. "You know that I don't mean him." His stare softened as he looked at his colleague. "It…it…was someone else I saw lying there."

"Eames?" Stabler suspected. "But why? Your theory that the killer is fixed on you is weak at best. She won't be in danger…"

"She matches the profile as well as her or agent Spade."

"Yes, and as Olivia and several other women. This so-called connection still can be a coincidence."

Goren looked at him, his doubts clearly visible.

"Let us go back to One Police Plaza," Stabler suggested and went on towards the car.

It was a silent ride. Stabler couldn't bring Goren to talk to him and so he ceased to try. Now and then he looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Goren sat deep in his seat, staring out of the window, yet, seeing nothing but what crossed his mind.

xxx

Back in the bullpen they both sat at their desks doing paperwork until Jack and Sam arrived. Then they questioned the FBI agent together and needed hardly thirty minutes to take the statement. Not much later Benson and Eames returned and the four of them filled Deakins in on their results. Now they all sat, writing reports.

Eames couldn't concentrate. She was thinking about her partner. It surprised her that Deakins had let him go to the crime scene. She was also surprised by Deakins decision to let Goren talk with Nicole. Alone! Eames still was furious about that.

When she looked at Goren now, she could see that the case was hard on him. He was absentminded and totally unfocused. And she knew that until now he did not really try and make up a profile of the guy. So far Stabler seemed to know more about the perp than Goren. But Eames was certain that her partner most likely knew a ton about this guy. The information was locked up in his head. The trick was to find out how to get it out of there.

Eames got some coffee and set one of the cups next to Goren on the table. He did not seem to notice. As she watched closer she realized that he wasn't working at all. He was just shoving the paper from one side of the desk to the other.

Eames circled the desks and leaned in on him. "Goren," she whispered into his ear, yet, with a sharp touch to underline her seniority. "Come with me. Now." She turned back on her heels.

After all he looked up. Eames already entered interrogation two. If she was calling him his last name, she was angry. Feeling that at least Logan and Barek were watching him, Goren got up and followed her.

In the privacy of the interrogation room Eames was waiting for him. "Explain yourself," she demanded.

Slowly Goren entered the room and closed the door. But he didn't speak, was just waiting.

"What's the matter with you?"

Silence.

"I can't believe you lost your ability to talk. – It's me, okay. So come on, speak to me."

Silence.

"Bobby, I lose my patience," she said. "Does this case really disturb you so much?"

"Who says so?"

"I do!" She was glaring at him. "You haven't done much so far. I know you can do better than this."

"You think so?"

His taciturnity arose her anger. Normally he was the one who was talking.

"What was this all about being no warning, but a message he could have killed Spade but refused to do so? You made up a good profile of the victims but the profile of the murderer is at least fragmentary! I know you could do better – but you don't even try!"

"Are you finished?" he snapped.

His look gave her the creeps. This was not the Robert Goren she was used to.

"What would you say if I'd tell you I don't _want_ to try?" he challenged her.

"I would want to know why."

He watched her closely. "No, you wouldn't."

Silence.

"We have a lunatic on the loose out there," she finally said. "He's abducting and killing women. We don't have a clue how to catch him. And you refuse to do something?"

"I don't refuse to do something. I'm working the case."

"You're kidding! You're shoving papers round and talking in riddles. But you don't try and really help."

"You do want me to try?" This sounded like a challenge again.

"Yes, I do you want to try," she took it, even if she was annoyed. "Come on, go ahead. You know me, partner. Here you can talk."

He definitely wasn't pleased. Nevertheless, he started thinking, which included him marching round the room. Still he didn't talk and Eames soon became nervous.

"He is someone who needs attention," he began. "He often to almost lacks it even if he truly deserves it. Because he isn't dumb. After all he has to be very intelligent and that comes along with arrogance. That's the reason he's leaving his victims at exposed places to be relatively quickly found. He longs for the media showing his prey and discussing his murders. His arrogance possibly drives him back to the scene, talking with reporters or even cops." He paused.

_If this should be all you're coming up with, it wasn't worth the trial_, she thought.

"He thinks he's creating art. The way he arranges the bodies is not just his MO, it's more a way to express himself. His MO develops fast and seems to be unusually controlled…"

Eames listened to him as he was collecting and discussing his theories until it struck her that he changed. Something was wrong. Eames could sense it with every fiber of her body. Her partner was still talking but his usual mannerisms ceased. He became unaccustomarily still. And then it stroke her: He was talking of the killer in first person - he said 'I'.

"Bobby?" she asked tentatively.

She had no ear for whatever he was saying right then, but when he turned, his gaze made her not uncomfortable but afraid. As he turned himself on her it was in a calm and silent way, what scared her more as if he had downright attacked her. When he did not react to her orders she hit him hard and he backed off. He was breathing heavily and gestured her to stay out of his way.

She caught her breath and hurried out as fast as she dared, not to rise the suspicions of her colleagues.

"War of the roses?" Logan sneered at her, but his grin faded at the sight of her puzzled look.

"You're okay?" Barek asked.

"I'm fine," Eames replied.

Logan did not believe her. He had seen where they were going to earlier and so he got up and went over to I2. Goren still was there, leaning with his back against the wall.

"What have you done?" Logan snapped. "How did you manage to upset your partner?" He wanted to say more but thought better of it when Goren turned his head to face him. The brown eyes were darkened and clouded by a look that even Logan gave the creeps. For nearly three minutes they had their stares locked.

When Goren's eyes finally cleared it was as if a demon had left him. His legs couldn't hold him upright anymore and he slid down the wall to collapse in the corner of the room.

Fear suddenly struck Logan. Not of his colleague, as it happened to be only minutes ago, but for him. With four long steps he crossed the room and knelt down beside Goren.

"Hey, pal," he said softly. "S'everything okay?"

Goren tried and hide from him. From behind Logan heard someone slip in and close the door.

"What happened?" he heard Eames ask.

"I don't know," he answered. "What were you doing here, anyway?"

"I tried to get him focused on the case." She sounded guilty. "He didn't want to and I was furious because we can't afford any disturbance in the investigation when we're already got stuck."

"Did he do his psycho-thing?"

She frowned at him. Logan should know by now that Bobby wasn't just doing any _psycho-thing_. Logan saw her anger and replied lightly,

"This was meant as a compliment. I was just fishing for words."

"It turned out well…" Eames swallowed. "Until he somehow stepped over an invisible line. His personality seemed to change completely. I was scared," she admitted.

"If he's suffered a nervous breakdown, we should call Olivet or Skoda," Logan proposed.

"Don't you dare!" Eames went mad again, this time at Logan.

"But…"

"It was _not_ a nervous breakdown," Logan was interrupted by a slightly trembling voice. "And even if it would have been it's now called acute psychosis."

Both the detectives looked down incredulously at their colleague.

"Smart-ass," Logan snorted. "Will you tell me what it was instead?"

Goren shifted until he leaned directly in the corner, his arms on his drawn knees. Still his hands were slightly shaking.

"Just… couldn't get out of his head," he simply said. Until now he'd avoided to look at Eames. When he did his eyes radiated compassion. "I'm sorry. You always kept me grounded when I did it before. This time it didn't work."

"Why?"

He just shrugged. "Can't tell. But I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," she said. "I am sorry for forcing you into this. I should've been listening to you when you told me you didn't want to try."

"That wasn't your fault. I should have tried earlier… without being reminded by you." He took a deep breath. "Did I tell you anything useful?"

"You don't remember?" Eames asked.

He shook his head.

"Do you know what was different to…" Logan lacked an appropriate word. "You know what I mean."

"To the other occasions I was entering a criminal mind?" Goren suggested. "No, I don't. And I don't know whether it might happen again."

They stood there in silence. Obviously Eames was waiting for a chance to talk to her partner alone. Likewise was Logan. And Goren was torn between them. At last he didn't respond to either of them and left the interrogation room. He was walking slowly and was overtaken by Eames before he could reach the squad room. From behind someone grabbed his arm and urged him through the next door, out to the stairway.

"You want to talk?" Logan asked and sat down on the stairs leading upwards.

For a moment Goren just looked at him._ No, I don't want to talk._ Then he sat down beside him.

"You don't remember," Logan said and it was a sarcastic statement instead of a question. He watched his colleague who sat really close to him, gritting his teeth, staring at the closed door. "You don't _want_ to tell her what's on your mind. Why?"

"I don't want to scare her," he answered.

Logan snorted derisively. "You don't think that it scares her even more if you _don't_ talk to her?"

There was a pause.

"I think this guy will challenge us," Goren finally said in a low voice. "Challenge me. He doesn't need the shelter of the night. He operates in broad daylight. He always took not only attractive but also strong women. He likes them to resist. I cannot tell what he's doing to them while he holds them prisoner but I believe that this time together with them is the reason he abducts them. It's not about killing them. He only does because they could identify him."

Logan didn't dare to interrupt his thoughts by asking. He waited for him to continue.

"That's why the posture of the bodies can't really tell us something about him. He leaves them there just to show that he is capable of doing so without being observed. He exposes them this way just to let us know that we can't do a fucking thing to stop him." He sounded frustrated.

"That tells us that he's quite arrogant an asshole," Logan plainly said.

Goren looked at him incredulously. "You doing the _psycho-thing_ now?"

"Perhaps you're rubbing off on me." Logan grinned and earned a grin in return, though it faded fast.

"This guy doesn't care about a person's status. He likes tough women and a federal agent or police detective won't scare him away but attract him." Goren looked at the door again obviously seeing the bullpen behind in his mind. His voice became lower with every word as he continued, "I just have the feeling that we might personally find out about him. I'm scared that he might attack… Carolyn, or… Alex." He swallowed.

"You want to protect her," Logan said. "That's okay. You feel responsible for your partner. Nevertheless, you should talk with her about your worries."

"It's nothing substantial. If there would be some kind of proof…"

"Goren…" He waited until the other man looked at him. "You should really talk with her."

"And say what?" Logan didn't answer. "I cannot tell why, but I think that he's already close. He's waiting for the right moment to make the next step. I just want to be there when he tries do take her. I want to defend her and make him regret his arrogance."

Logan smiled. "You don't want to lose her." His eyes showed his compassion. "You two have a very special partnership."

"Yeah, we have." Goren sighed. "With her it's so much different to every partner I had before. I can't tell what it…"

"You're soul mates," Logan interrupted gently. He nearly laughed out loud at the almost shocked impression on Goren's face. "You'd do everything for her, wouldn't you?"

"I'd give my life for hers."

"As I would for Barek," Logan admitted. He slapped his colleague on the shoulder encouragingly. "C'mon! Go and talk with her."

The two detectives stood up and entered the bullpen again.

If either of them would have known that their conversation had been overheard they wouldn't have been so relaxed. But they did not see the man who stood on the next landing below. He was smiling like a piranha.

tbc...

* * *

A/N: Okay, thanks for reading folks. It would make me so happy if you would take the time to log in and leave a review. They're always so inspiring. So please, review. Thanks.

Oh, and… Happy Easter:)


	11. Chapter 10

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, thanks a lot (I really love my last lines…"_smirks_").

We're going to have interaction between Bobby and the killer, so this chapter is for _Bammi1_, who's on tenterhooks for said interaction. Special thanks to _obsessedwithstabler _for beta-reading ch10 as well as to_ Confused_ who's not quite as confused by my story as she should be, because we had good long talks about it. Also thanks to _MaryT_ who helped me to sort some things out.

Oh, by the way... if you want to print it, you should put some more paper into your printer. It's a long one again. I could have split it, but I promised the interaction for this chapter, so I didn't. Have fun, all of you out there! Maybe I can lure some of you out of your "_rabbit holes_" with this chapter. LOL Thanks!

**10**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Sitting in the task room, doing paperwork, turning over files and waiting for something to happen, drove Goren crazy. Yes, he went to the crime scene with Stabler, but in the end he was still condemned to stay at the station while the others were out in the field. Even annoying basics like door to door questioning would be welcome now.

_Well_, he suspected,_ now that Linda was found, we will most likely spend the weekend here, too. Deakins never included the weekend, did he? Today's Thursday…_

To stare at the files did Goren no good. Absently he played with a small item in his pocket and his thoughts started to trail off again.

_I know that I should have talked earlier. Eames just tried to help. She wanted me to open up to her. She could not know about what's crossing my mind. When she asked me if this case would disturb me she hit way too close to home… as Stabler did earlier. Damn! I could have smacked him! And then __Eames… Alex…_

He looked at her empty chair. When he came back from his talk with Logan, she was gone again. His fingers followed the curves of the wooden object. He was so tired…

_I'm sorry, Alex. I did not mean to snap. I did not want it to become a challenge. You tried to get me focused. You tried desperately because we're running out of time…_

Memories rose and he flinched back. In search for something to hold on to, his hand closed around his toy.

_It felt odd to enter his mind. I feared that he might be the one who would drive me over the edge. And then… I can't remember exactly what happened. I must have stepped over the line… and I didn't even know that it was there. Logan__ doesn't understand it. I really don't remember what I have done… I just remember that I scared Alex._

_Scared Alex!_ He shivered. _I never could hurt her. What have I done? What is this guy doing with my head? Sleep… I want to…_

"Goren?" someone next to him said. "Bobby?"

It did not register in his mind until this someone touched his shoulder. His head spun round to look at captain Deakins.

"Bobby!" He sounded concerned. Goren hardly heard him. He saw his lips move but the words did not reach him. "Come with me."

As if he was in trance Goren got up and followed his boss. When he sat in front of the big desk he tried to focus on what the captain said.

"Bobby!" Deakins tried emphatically. "Do you listen to me?"

"Ye…yeah," he mumbled as the rush in his ears ebbed away.

"What's the matter with you, Bobby?" Deakins asked. "And don't tell me you're okay, because I can see that you're not."

Goren stared at him incredulously.

"You're pale as chalk," Deakins said, pointing at him. "And you're not just absentminded. I talked almost two minutes to you before you reacted."

"I… I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," Deakins remarked dryly. He looked at him intently. "And I'm worried, Bobby. Please tell me what's bothering you."

_If I would know…_ So he just returned the look, racking his mind to find an answer.

Deakins did not know Goren as good as Eames did, but he still could read in his features that his mind was racing on overdrive… and he seemed to have lost the ability to slow it down again.

_There's nothing bothering him_, Deakins realized. _It's tormenting him. I don't know how to interpret this expression. Is this fear?_

"I know that you often think that you're responsible for the whole world. You're not, Detective. What has happened to Linda Montagnolo and… Miss Fountain was out of your control…"

"I should have prevented it," he contradicted. "What he has done to Stevie was a warning… for me. He wanted to tell me that I don't follow the rules of his game!" His voice grew louder with frustration. "But I can't tell what he wants, what these rules are! I can't solve his riddle. I… I feel like…"

He had started to let his hands run over his hair, to gesture and was winding in his chair as if he felt trapped.

"Easy, Bobby," Deakins tried to calm him. He became nervous now. "Take a deep breath and then try again. Don't rush it."

It did not reach his mind. His thoughts were a pure whirlwind, a growing hurricane that threatened to devastate whatever was in its way.

"Bobby! Try to focus. If you can't think straight, I'll have to relieve you of this case…"

Goren's head shot up, his gaze finding and locking with Deakins' eyes. Instantly the captain forgot what he had wanted to say. This stare gave him the creeps.

"That's out of _your_ control," Goren snarled.

Deakins was thunderstruck. His first impulse was to reprimand the detective at once, especially given the circumstance that he already was on desk duty, but something was in that stare that stopped him. As he held his gaze a moment longer he could rather feel but see the pain behind this remark.

"Bobby…" he started but was interrupted.

"He's regarding me as his chess partner," he jumped up and started to pace. "To take me out of the game now could prove to be disastrous."

Deakins did not know how to respond. Goren's pain started to be plainly visible. All Deakins could think about now was to get Eames for help.

"Where's your partner?" was the next logical thing to ask.

The harmless question met Goren's distressed mind and changed rapidly into _if Deakins doesn't know then she's missing._

"What do you mean, where's your partner?" He looked at him incredulously, his voice taking on a hint of panic. "I thought, you'd have sent her out together with Benson!"

"Benson's here," Deakins replied, nodding towards the bullpen.

Goren whirled around and searched through the glass wall for Benson, to see her enter the office she shared with Stabler. He also checked on Barek and Logan. They sat at their desks.

"Eames?" Goren breathed and was already halfway through the door.

"Bobby?" Deakins jumped up from his seat. "Goren!"

But he was gone.

xxx

"Hey, have you seen Eames?" Goren panted as he put his head through the door of the task room.

Benson as well as Stabler shook their heads. "No, not since we…" _came back from Brooklyn and reported to Deakins_, Benson wanted to say, but Goren was back out again.

He also stopped at Barek and Logan's desks, but they also had to answer in the negative.

"Bobby!" Logan called after him, as Goren strode out of the squad room.

Goren searched the whole eleventh floor. When he approached the Major Case squad room again, he felt panic rise. From the entrance he could see that Eames' desk still was unoccupied. He looked around but could not spot her. When he got his cell phone out to call hers it rang on top of her desk. So he pivoted again and started to search everything a second time. He even looked into the storage rooms where case files dusted to themselves. It was dark in there and he was just about to close the door again, when he heard sniffles.

"Hello?" Goren called tentatively, entering the room and switching the light on.

Next to a shelf Eames sat on the floor, her legs pulled up to her chest and her face streaked with tears.

"Leave me alone," she sniffled without to look up.

Dumbfounded Goren froze in place. His panic left him with a puff. There she sat, at least physically unharmed, obviously in distress, and told him to leave. His relief changed to hurt. But as he respected her he duly turned to head back out.

"Wait," she sobbed. "That… that was… not…" she trailed off. "Just wait."

He stood at the door, his hand on the handle and did not dare to move. _She's crying! I made her cry!_ His heart raced and ached as if he was going to get a heart attack.

"I… I just reacted to the light… and… didn't notice… it was… you… I just wanted… to be alone for a moment." Eames stuttered. When she saw him slowly turn his head to look at her over his shoulder she shivered. He was pale and held… what… sort of desperation in his features.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "Oh, Eames, I'm so sorry."

"_You_ are sorry?" she sobbed. "What are _you_ sorry for?"

"What… what I did… did to you," he stammered. "I'm…"

"No, Bobby! Stop it!" she tried to hold him back. "You're not going to apologize for my faults."

"B…but you…"

"…did everything wrong," she continued his sentence. "I'm truly sorry. It was a stupid mistake. I don't know why I reacted as I did, but I have to apologize. I hid in here to gather my thoughts." She patted the concrete floor on her right side. Reluctantly he sat down next to her, leaning against the wall. "I was so furious about Stabler and how he treated you, that I have lost track of you. I concentrated on Benson and Stabler, because I wanted to get to know them, so that I'd be better prepared to handle you all. But I did not mediate! Instead of that I excluded you! I'm such a fool!"

"You're not a fool," he contradicted. His breaths were shallow. "If we're talking about fools, that would be…"

"…not you," Eames tried to stop him. "It was _my_ fault. I let you down! I shouldn't have pressed you to get into this guy's mind."

"I needed the pressure," he disagreed. Still, it sounded strange. "I should have tried to focus on him much earlier. It's what… I saw in… his mind that kept me from trying. I didn't want to be forced into his game, but that's exactly what happened."

His voice took on a tremor. Eames could sense now that he was in mental pain and she scolded herself, not to have prevented that. He also pulled up his legs, wrapped his arms around the shins. Seeing that she shivered but gave herself a mental kick in the ass.

"I'm sorry, Bobby." As she forced herself to try and take over control again, her voice became stronger. "That should not have happened. We're partners. It's my job to protect you… and I failed miserably."

She leaned a bit forward to be able to look into his face. What she saw let her shiver again. _Damn. I did everything wrong! _Exhaustion and fear were written in his face. _Why didn't I notice that earlier? What kind of a partner am I? Has he slept? No, certainly not. How long hasn't he slept? And he's withdrawing into himself. Now I have to find a way to get him out of there!_

"Bobby? Do you listen to me?" Just for a second he glanced at her. "Bobby, I can't tell you how sorry I am. And even in the moment you needed me most, I backed off and left. I should have stayed and helped you, but I was so distraught by what has happened, that I could not think straight. First off, I shouldn't have forced you into this. Secondly I should have noticed that you threatened to slip. Thirdly I should never have left you. You were trapped in this guy's mind and I was the one who forced you in there…"

"No," he panted. "That's not…" tears burned in his eyes. "I don't know what happened, Eames, but… I don't blame anyone… least of all you. You didn't force me to do anything. Actually I followed your lead because I trust you."

_That trust must be badly shaken, now_, she thought. _It's so typical for him to blame no one except of himself…_

"But, Bobby…"

"I trust you with my life, Eames," he interrupted her once more. "When you asked me to try and make his profile, it was my frustration not to be able to approach him that let me snap at you. I knew we were running out of time and that I had to work this out. I tried to do it because you were there. I did it because I trusted you to pull me back from the edge of the cliff… as you've always done."

His erratic breaths let him fall silent for a moment and Eames did not dare to disturb him. This time she was sure that he would continue on his own. She had to find out what was on his mind. She could contradict him later in case this was necessary.

"At first it wasn't that difficult," he said in a low, toneless voice. "I approached his psyche and began to explore his motives and his behavior when suddenly…… I… don't know… how to describe it. I entered the labyrinth that is his mind and then… the lights went out. In complete darkness I lost my orientation and then… I… lost contact… to you."

While he was talking, he slightly bowed forward, gently rocking back and forth. His mind was far, far away again. Eames could not think of anything else but to put her hand on his back, rubbing it in small circles to try and keep him in touch with her this time.

"I had refused to try and talk about it earlier, because I did not want to scare you. Back then it just was one of my odd ideas… pure, unfounded instinct. But now I know that sooner or later he will be after you. Still, I had no concrete profile ready. I… I did it… to find out how to protect you. I… really thought that I could do it. That I lost contact to you came so out of the blue that I could not prevent it. I can't really explain where I have been. I have no clear memory of that place. I know that it was dark… and… I was scared. I called out for you, but you did not come."

Eames got up and squatted in front of him. She desperately tried to get through his barriers, but his hands were locked tight into each other, pulling his legs to his chest. So she returned to his side.

"I could not get out of this maze," he sobbed. "I knew that something was happening but I was out of control. I felt attacked and could not determine from where and who it was. Suddenly everything was spinning. And then I was thrown out of the labyrinth. I was catapulted back into presence and that was as bad as being trapped in there. I saw you and that you were scared… of me!" his voice broke. "And… that… scared the shit out of me…"

He trailed off and was actually crying now. Eames could feel his hurt. Her own heart pounded in her chest and made her blood rush in her ears.

"You know what my first thought was?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I… I really… thought, that was it, that was the incident that drove me over the edge. That I freaked out and turned myself on you… it happened so fast… and… I could not control it…"

"You were talking about him in first person," Eames explained, trying to get him back into profiler-mode. "You said '_I_' when you were talking about what '_you'_ have done to the women."

"I was not aware that I was still talking." He moaned. "But… when I… when I realized what I must have done, I really thought that it happened, that I crossed the line and now… also… would be…" he choked. His throat was corded up.

Suddenly it struck her.

"You thought this was a delusion?" she breathed. "You did believe that you suffered a breakdown? That you would finally develop schizophrenia?"

Halfway hidden between his arms and knees he nodded and Eames' heart broke for him. She did not know what to say. But she did not have to think, she just reacted… and wrapped her arms around him to pull him into a close embrace. He stiffened up and she felt him tremble. Soothingly she started to rub his back in circles again. One hand on the back of his neck, she pulled him even tighter, holding him gently in place and running her fingers through his hair. Hard tremors passed his body. She did not even realize that she began to hum. It seemed to take forever until he released his grip on his legs and wrapped his arms around her in return. Even as his body slumped against hers, giving in to her gentle caress, he did not stop shivering.

xxx

When his detective did not return after what seemed to be hours, Deakins decided to go and look for him. He strolled out of his office and passed the desks of his lead detectives. Goren's binder was on the tabletop, so he could not be too far away. So Deakins left the squad room to head for the break room, the rest room, the crib. No sign of Bobby Goren… or Alex Eames.

_He was searching for her_, Deakins reminded himself. _She also was not back at the bullpen when I started my search._ Just as he was about to pass the restrooms again, Barek left the Ladies'.

"Barek," he said. "Sorry, but… have you seen Eames in there?"

"No, Captain. Isn't she out somewhere with Goren?"

_That's what Bobby asked me about Alex and Benson_, Deakins thought. Now they're both vanished.

"No, they will probably be at the lab. When you see them, would you please tell them, that I'd like to speak them?"

"Of course, sir."

"Thanks, Barek." Still consumed with his thoughts about Goren, he went back to his office.

He left a frowning Barek behind who returned to her desk with such a puzzled expression, that her partner could not help but to ask her about it.

"Something's wrong with Goren," she mused, her voice low so that the others would not hear her. "He was looking for Eames earlier and so far neither of them has returned."

"Shall we search for them?" Logan asked, already halfway up, eager to get away from his paperwork.

"They are not missing," Barek scolded playfully. "I just shall tell them that he wants them in his office as soon as they're back."

Logan made a face. "I need a break," he said and was up and out of the squad room before Barek could do so much as call _Mike_.

xxx

To hold him tight to her chest, his face buried in the crook of her neck, sent shocks through Eames' system. As her fingers stroke through his thick curls she could not help but notice how smooth they felt. Slowly his trembling eased and her concentration slipped. She felt the warmth and weight of his body against hers and thought that she would not mind to do that forever.

_We're both past an invisible border now_, she thought. _That's not what partners are for. That's what… what friends are for, more than… friends._

Now it was her turn to shiver as she realized what just happened. To see him this vulnerable, so in need of her, did not scare her. On the contrary it aroused deep caring feelings and a yearning to protect him. For years she knew that she loved Robert Goren, but now she wondered what kind of love it really was. She could not determine it but she knew that from now on their partnership would never be the same.

Little by little Goren's mind slowed down. He was content to give in to Eames' gentle caress and soft humming. Her hair smelled good. He felt it on his cheek, so smooth and soft. _It takes her some time and effort to let it look as natural and free as she wears it. She could use clips for example, but she always wears it open. I like it this way, it underlines her natural beauty…_ This thought let him shiver again. _Beauty? Since when do I think about my tough-as-nails, traditional and witty partner as beautiful?_ He swallowed_. Since the very first day,_ he realized. _Since the moment Deakins asked me to come into his office to introduce me to my-last-chance-in-this-squad new partner. Since the moment, I stepped in and saw this petite blonde who should become, together with my Mom, the most important person in my life. It was right at this moment that I thought that I've never seen a more beautiful woman._

_And when I got to know her I realized what an amazing woman she is. I… No!_

Without any warning he backed off, breaking out of her embrace and slamming his head into the wall accidentally. His breathing accelerated again and he panted as if he had run a marathon.

"Bobby?" Eames was startled. She did not know what had caused him to break away. For her it seemed as if something had thrown him back into the nightmare she just got him out of. "Bobby," she breathed and reached out for to touch his cheek, but he turned away. _What the hell…? _She could spot the fear in his eyes before she lost contact.

Absently he rubbed the hurting spot on his head where he had hit the wall. _This is the wrong way to think. She's my partner, for God's sake. This could ruin our partnership. She won't agree with me, so I might destroy everything what we have now. And... and... it's going to endanger her even more..._

"Bobby!" She became annoyed. Even if she could not see his eyes she noticed that he started to retreat into himself, to shut her out.

"Bobby! If you're not going to talk with me right now, I swear I'm going right through that door and out on the streets, calling for the killer to take the bait!"

She meant the threat for to get him back into a discussion, but what she read in his face when he looked at her now gave her the creeps. _He must think I lost my mind._

"What are you talking about!?" he roared, jumping to his feet. "What bait!? Do you think I told you that for to ask you to play the bait!?"

Eames just could stare at him, thunderstruck. No, that was not what she had wanted to say. She also scrambled to her feet when the door flew open, two colleagues with worried expressions peeking in.

"Get out!" Eames yelled. "We're just arguing! Get out!" And she slammed the door shut into their faces. "That's not what I meant!" she exploded, facing her partner. "And now you will listen to me! _You_… are not responsible for what has happened! _You_… are not a fool! _You_… will not go to lose your mind. _You_… have not done anything wrong than to push me away when I answered your need!" In contrast to her blond hair her face glowed in an even darker red. Now she was panting with heated temper. "And…" she breathed, "…last but not least. You won't lose me… as long as you brilliant idiot don't push me away."

Once more she reached out for him and this time he did not flinch back. So she laid both her hands on his shoulders.

"Bobby. I know this is hard for you. You always think you're responsible for the whole world and you threaten to break under its weight. Even if this guy is challenging you… you're not forced to go through this alone. I'm here for you. And Carolyn and Mike, they are also there. They learned to respect you. They are friends and they will stick by you through thick and thin. We all do. Do you listen to me, Bobby? You are not alone."

Looking up at his skeptical expression, she felt the urge to hit him. To hit him hard. As if on cue someone knocked at the door hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Eames bellowed and the door opened a gap.

"Alex?" they heard Barek's voice. "Are you okay?"

"Come on in, Caro," Eames answered, "and see for yourself."

Cautiously Barek stepped in and closed the door. She did not know what to make out of that scene, so she chose to remain silent.

"Would you do me a favor, Carolyn?" Alex asked. "Could you tell this big oaf that we are having his back?"

By this seemingly simple demand Barek could tell that Eames was the one needing backup right now and decided to use her tough-ass-cop attitude to address her friend's partner. Wordlessly she opened the door again and reached out to pull her perplexed partner in.

"If you mean Mike, yourself and me with _we_, then yes, I can," Barek retorted. "You hear me, Goren? You can't get rid of us. We're sticking by you, even if hell freezes over."

He stared at her, thunderstruck. Only in action he had heard Barek raise her voice so far. To hear her yell to assure him of her support surprised him.

Eames felt shivers run down her spine again as she looked at her partner. His eyes rested on Barek, but they clouded. Eames had thought that some reassurance that he would not have to go through this case alone would help him, would soothe his stirred mind. Obviously it became worse instead. She could see that he shut them all out even faster.

Hit by the impact of Barek's word and the way they transported her compassion, Goren stumbled backwards. When he ran into the wall and could not retreat further he retreated to the one place, he knew would grant him sanctuary. His mind.

Often haunted by memories and feelings even this place was not save. This moment proved not to be any different. As soon as Goren stepped in, it fell shut. But it did not shut the others out. This time it shut him in. And the nightmare he encountered there made him tremble.

"Bobby?" Logan panted as he saw his colleague and friend stagger.

In an almost completely dark place, lit only by a low, flickering bulb, Goren saw long, brown curls and chains, holding the woman's wrists, to leave marks as they were found on Linda. Under evil thrusts she was winding and sobbing. He felt her skin as he bowed over her. He saw the knife in his hand, burying into her flesh over and over again and her blood splashed against his body.

"Bobby!" Eames shot forward, not thinking for an instant, solely reacting. This time she would not abandon him. She would go through this with him. Grabbing his lapels she tried and force him to face her. She was unprepared for his reaction that threw her back into Barek's arms.

"Bobby!" she sobbed rubbing her thumping shoulder. It would certainly be bruised tomorrow. "Bobby! Listen to me! Bobby!" Eames tried desperately, but he seemed to be at a different place, unable to hear her.

Goren's gasps changed to sobs again. Before Barek and Logan did realize what happened, he was crying, slumped against the wall and sank to the ground. Eames entangled herself from Barek and hurried to his side, pulling him into her embrace.

"I'm here," she murmured. "I'm fine. And you're going to be fine, too. Shh… We're going through this together, okay. Bobby?"

This time she could calm him down more easily. It took hardly two minutes to get him back out of his similar to a shock state of mind.

"God, Eames," he breathed. "I can't control it."

She could hear his fear in these words and she was sure that Barek and Logan heard it as well.

"Deakins should suspend me," he said. "I'm useless."

"You're not useless, Bobby," she contradicted him. "Don't talk so stupid."

"I am. I failed. I failed miserably… I should have told you earlier. I should have told Deakins…" His voice trailed off. With his right he reached into one of his suit pockets. When he opened his hand, a black pawn lay in the open palm.

Eames felt goosebumps on her back. What did he want to tell her?

"Bobby. Tell me now. What's about this pawn?"

He was hardly audible when he spoke again. "I got one when the first woman was killed."

Each of the other three detectives went rigid.

"I'm sure I got this wrong," Logan snapped. "Did you just tell us that the killer contacted you after his first murder?"

"No," Goren replied. "I said that I got a pawn. Just a pawn, nothing else."

"No letter?" Eames asked.

"No."

"A phone call?"

"No!" Goren became annoyed. "Nothing else."

"Why didn't you tell us that?" Logan roared. "Was it the only one?"

Goren just shook his head.

"So you're holding back evidence?!"

"Not… really," Goren mumbled. "I… I've found this one… on my desk."

"What?" Barek and Logan exploded.

"When?" Eames wanted to know.

"This morning, today, before Linda was found."

That rendered them silent for a moment.

"Okay, Bobby. Why didn't you tell someone about that?"

"Because I was not sure why I got these pawns in the first place. There was no message enclosed. I did not know what to make out of it. And then…"

"…and then?" Eames pressed. This time she had no choice.

"I didn't get one for Stevie. I only made the connection when I got the one for Linda. Cause Stevie did not need an additional hint. She _was_ the message."

"Why pawns?" Logan asked.

"Their function in chess… they are… exchangeable… dispensable." He stared at the floor. "He doesn't need them for the game he's playing with me."

"So it was the stress, Bobby," Eames changed the subject, trying to let her voice sound confident. "This realization together with lack of sleep and the discovery of Linda triggered what you have experienced as breakdown. It wasn't a breakdown, it was just the stress."

"Deakins should fire me," Goren mumbled. Still he was lost in his guilt-trip.

Eames shook her head ferociously. "Bobby, you stupid jackass! Stop this at once. It's _not_ your fault!" Another thing came to her mind. "Have you slept at all?"

"Not really," he mumbled.

_That he answers so fast testifies to how tired he really is_, Eames thought, massaging his neck and shoulders._ And he was hiding it from us._ She looked up at Barek and Logan.

"We have to talk with Deakins. We have to take into consideration what you have told us, Bobby, and respond with our investigation. And then we have to arrange some things so that you don't have to sleep in your car again."

"You…" he breathed.

"Yeah, I knew," she grumbled. "And I don't like it. I don't like the idea to have to work with Pépé le Pew either, in case this becomes your new sleeping habit… with no shower and new clothes in reach."

Now he blushed violently.

"I know why you've done it," she added. "And I do agree with you, Bobby. If you think that I need protection, then let's handle that by ourselves. I don't want the whole cavalry camping in my street, okay."

"So you're offering me your sofa?" he asked innocently.

"The sofa… and nothing else than the sofa."

"And if I'll have to… use the bathroom? Will you deny me that?"

"Bobby!"

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**on the stairwell**

_After all what Nicky has told me about him, I would have thought that he's a lot smarter. But so far he isn't anywhere close to where I wanted to lead him._

His memories trailed back to the morning. He had sent a boy to deliver the pawn, cause he would not have an opportunity to do it himself. He had to take care of Linda.

_What kind of an irony! I just could not resist when I saw the game sitting on her desk. Well, this Samantha woman is a FBI agent! I expected her to play something bright as chess._

_But it was so cool to find it there! A big, wooden chess game._

A broad grin spread over his face.

_Well, I'm going to find out, what Bobby think__s about it. He will show some reaction, now that I'm intensifying the game. He won't be able to help and show me…_ and the wicked grin crept back on his face.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"Good to see you all," Deakins started. He met his four MCS detectives as well as Benson and Stabler in the task room, where all their material was displayed on the pin board. "I just received a call from ME Rodgers. She had news about Linda Montagnolo. Cause of death is without any doubt the cut throat, but she found something interesting."

"Other than the hairbrush?" Stabler asked.

"Yes, other than that," Deakins said and shot him an angry look. "Goren, I find it kind of interesting that you used the metaphor of chess in our conversation a while ago. Because Rodgers found that this poor woman also was sodomized."

Goren groaned. As if it was not bad enough to be raped with a hairbrush.

"Okay, don't tantalize us, sir," Eames said. "What has he sodomized her with."

Deakins reached into a folder for a print. "Rodgers sent me this e-mail," he answered and held up the page. It was the photo of a corner ruler, used for evidence, next to a black chess Queen.

"No!" Goren panted and bleached visibly. This _NO_ was all he could think of. Shivers ran down his back and he started to tremble.

Eames reached for his left hand and held it firmly.

Deakins' concern changed to suspicion. "Is there something you want to share with us?" he asked. He did not like Goren's expression.

Embarrassed Goren stepped from one foot on the other. He just had convinced Stabler not to be crazy and now… He almost wound in place, trying to make up his mind.

When Eames sensed it, she wanted to withdraw her hand to reach for his shoulders again, only to find that she could not get it out of his clasp. It was stuck in a vice out of muscles and bones. Only when she saw the white shining knuckles she felt the pain.

"What's the matter with him?" Deakins wanted to know, hearing Goren mumble unintelligible to himself.

"He believes to be responsible," Eames sighed. "He thinks you'll fire him."

"That might happen faster than he thinks if he doesn't talk with me. Goren?" Slowly Deakins became annoyed. "At least you might get stuck at your desk for another week."

Eames sensed his avoidance, felt him retreat. He actually made a step towards the door, but she held him back. She gritted her teeth not to show the pain his firm grip on her hand caused her.

Deakins was not willing to let him retreat this way. He needed answers and he needed them now. "Either you talk with me now or you're going to have a lot of time to think about it when you're suspended."

As Goren already expected to be fired that was an empty threat to him. He wanted to go and Eames planted her feet as best as she could to hold him back.

"Goren, you stubborn mule! Stop it and talk!" she yelled at him. "Dammit, Bobby! Stop!"

"So it's a save bet to say that Eames will be the one this queen's standing for. Am I right, Bobby?" Stabler simply threw in without to raise his voice, even uninterested digging in his files.

Goren froze in place.

"At least you're working on getting ass duty for the both of you." Stabler topped his words with an impertinent grin. When Goren turned to him it was all he could do not to flinch back. The dark chocolate eyes were on fire and rage narrowed the brows above them.

"Or do you have any other suggestion?" Stabler stood his ground when Goren got into his face. He returned his stare with the look he usually saved for suspects. "How about siblings? Your mother, a sister? A girlfriend?"

Everyone knew how close Stabler hit with his suggestion. There was no one as close to Goren as his mother… and Eames. They all knew it, and they all were waiting for Goren to explode. Deakins was just about to interfere when he noticed that Stabler's tactic was working. Goren counted on his big frame and intensity to let everyone back off, but Stabler did not move an inch. On the contrary his muscles tensed and his intensity increased. Something in his look changed and…

Logan gasped as it was Goren who made a step back, then turned and sank in an office chair, pulling Eames with himself.

"Bobby?" She had to squat in front of him if she did not want to break her own wrist.

He just shook his head, slumped over, his arms drawn to his body, his forehead almost touching his knees. He still had to fight the images that haunted him.

"It's all my fault, mine, only mine," he whispered. "M… my fault."

"What's your fault, Bobby?" Stabler pressed.

"He…he has killed them…" he swallowed, "…because I… I didn't participate in his game…"

"What game?" Deakins inquired. He was reminded of their talk earlier when Goren told him it would be out of his control to relieve him of this case.

"Chess." His voice was so low that it was hardly audible. He fumbled the pawn out of his pocket and released Eames' hand. She took it and gave it to Deakins.

"Just… just fire me," Goren said. "I failed. At least two women are dead because I failed."

Deakins stared at the game stone in his hand.

"That's not the first, I guess," Stabler stated. "When did you get the first?"

It took a moment for Goren to digest what the SVU detective had said. His mind was still running on overdrive, hardly slow enough to grasp single thoughts.

"We… we were still working the Douglas/Olshaker case," he finally answered. "I didn't pay any attention because there was no message attached. I only made the connection this afternoon when the captain came in to tell us that another woman was found…"

"Where did you find it?"

"The one when the first woman was killed? In my mail box." Goren looked up at him. He had promised to talk and that was what he tried to do.

"Today."

"On my desk, here in the squad room." Goren was crimson red now, but not because he was angry. "I was so stupid. I didn't see it. And now they're dead."

Deakins just stood and listened. He was torn between beating and soothing the big detective who was like a son to him. One part of him wanted to hug him to take away the pain, and the police captain in him screamed for suspension.

"I need your head here and working," he finally said. "Until further notice you're on desk duty, as well as Eames."

"But she hasn't done…" anything wrong, Goren wanted to reply.

"And that's not meant as punishment for you, Alex, but as security measure. We have to think about what we're arranging for you overnight."

"We already made a plan for that," she explained. "I won't accept the whole cavalry around my house, so we arranged protection ourselves."

Deakins noticed the glances she exchanged with Goren and had an idea of this _arrangement_. "I would appreciate it if you could make use of that mind of yours and make up a profile, Goren" he said. "We need to get ahead of this guy or we'll never catch him."

"Yes, sir," Goren replied lowly. He looked at Eames. The warm glow in her eyes filled him with more confidence again. She would be right at his side. Relieved he managed a small smile.

"So why is he fixated on you?" Stabler asked.

Goren looked at him as if that was the most stupid question possible. "He needs an opponent," he said. "Someone who he believes to be clever enough to understand him. He wants an audience who can understand and appreciate his game."

"So he would turn against Eames to challenge you."

"Yes, but certainly not because he wants to get caught. This guy… he's never going to stop if no one catches him." Goren swallowed. "So far he did not get the attention he expected," he mused. "Linda was planned, but he squeezed Stevie in for to tell me that he's annoyed with me."

"His way to try to get you focused?" Eames asked and he nodded. "If he'd have bothered to call I could have told him that this isn't working with you."

His forehead crumpled and his look was sort of confused. "Thanks, Eames."

"You're welcome, Bobby."

The other detectives could not help their chuckles.

"I think that my first guess was wrong," Goren explained. "These killings actually just look as if they were his first string. I'm sure they're not. He will have killed before, somewhere else, he just arranges the scene in a way to make us believe that he's a developing rookie."

"The MO comparison with VICAP did not come up with any matching result," Stabler said. "There were several hits, but this particular MO never occurred somewhere else."

"I think he's copycatting." Goren wrote it on a slip and pinned it to the board.

"But if he's a copycat, the MO should be in there somewhere." Benson was cautious.

"But you might overlook something," Goren said. "Because the killer our perp is copycatting might be imprisoned or dead."

"So we should check VICAP again," Barek suggested. "We should select every single case with only a hint of similarity again."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Did you just volunteer?" he asked.

"We did," she replied and favored him with a broad grin.

"That was not exactly what I meant with sticking by him till hell freezes over," Logan grumbled.

Eames and Barek exchanged glances accompanied with smirks. Logan _really_ hated paperwork. "Thanks for the laugh, Mike," his partner said. "I know, you'd prefer some action."

"Yes, I do." His features distorted to a sour smile. "You owe me."

"I owe you nothing. You're my partner and I've got seniority."

"Dammit," he grumbled. "Do you have to remind me constantly."

The major case detectives laughed. Banter with Logan mostly ended with him in the defense. He was smart, but he was no match to the combined wittiness of Barek, Eames and Goren.

"Turn special attention to his signature," Goren said, when Barek and Logan were about to leave. "It's telling us more about the offender than the MO."

Logan stared back at him, momentarily at a loss.

"Bobby means the repetitive ritualistic behavior," Barek explained. "It's directly related to the offender's daydreams which he translates into action. It's also called personation."

"Damned profilers," Logan grumbled with a glance at Barek as well as Goren, but his small grin was one of pride.

Eames chuckled. A bit of banter might relax her partner, so that he could now come up with the requested profile.

"Is she a trained profiler?" Benson wanted to know when the two detectives had left.

"Yes," Goren replied. "She was several years with the FBI."

"Can we now concentrate on our case?" Stabler asked. "We should get something done." For a brief moment nothing happened. "Can we finally agree on the fact that Eames will be his next target?"

Goren stared at him with a deep frown, but he remained silent.

"You said that you already took precautions," Stabler continued. "That's good, but doesn't get us closer to finding this guy. So, c'mon and share your insights. You said that he's fixated on you. So this pawn you showed us is proof for this theory now, right."

"You can say that, yes," Goren confirmed. He felt a bit calmer now, more controlled.

"Then spit it out, Bobby."

Eames stopped short, her eyebrows raising. Stabler called her partner Bobby?

"It's an organized offender," Goren started. "He's mobile, uses verbal means or cons to capture the victim rather than to use physical force and the victim often is a targeted stranger selected by the offender due to his personal criteria. He has a strong demand of control and sexual acts occur ante- and perimortem, rarely postmortem."

"What about his way to arrange the bodies?" Stabler was determined to keep him talking.

"Belongs to his signature and is a translation of his daydreams into action, serves his pathologic needs."

"And his fixation? Can you compare that to… I forgot the word… what we often have to deal with in SVU, stalkers."

"You mean erotomania?" Goren asked back. "It's comparable, but has no sexual based component." He thought for a moment. "The crime scene where the body is discovered is not the death scene. Only exception is the scene of Linda Montagnolo. She was actually killed in agent Spade's apartment. His weapon of choice is a single edged knife, he used not only to cut the throat but also to stab his victims."

"How significant is his sexuality for his actions?" Benson asked for the aspect that had led to her and Stabler's participation in the case.

"I'm convinced that his sexual arousal in response to sadistic imagery plays an important role in his life, but it's not the driving force. He's a sexual sadist, but he's also sadistic in other fields. He obtains gratification from the victim's response to mental and physical torture. To rape them is just one mean to torture them. We are looking for a narcistic sociopath who decides consciously to kill."

Eames listened to him with growing awe. _That_ was the Bobby Goren she knew. Some of what he told them was a repetition of what he said earlier, but this time he really put it into a well founded profile.

"You can say that he's the opposite of the guy your squad is searching," Goren said.

"Who do you mean?" Stabler replied curiously.

"This man in the alley… I saw your picture in the news, Elliot. What was his name? Dawson?"

"Yeah."

"He's the victim of an disorganized offender, who seized the opportunity and did not even need a weapon… he just broke this guy's neck. Mutilation and insertion of the foreign object occurred postmortem and were substitution for actual sexual intercourse."

"Did you read the files?" Benson inquired.

"No, just the article. And I've seen two photos. It's a classic case… and almost impossible to solve if the offender did not know the victim. I doubt that there was genetic evidence…"

"That's right. The ME could not find foreign DNA."

"Who has the case now?" Goren asked.

"Munch and Tutuola," Stabler told him. "I talked with them. So far there is no promising lead."

"I don't think that this will change," Goren turned to him again. Then he faced the pin board. "To answer your earlier question, Elliot, yes, I took care of my mom and I have talked with some of my friends. As a matter of fact there are many casual acquaintances but no former girlfriend or such. On the other hand his game becomes more personal now, as he has proven by taking Linda and killing Stevie." He fell silent for a moment. "And I do agree… that this queen… gives a hint on Alex."

Eames felt shivers on her back. _He has used my first name. He seldom does on duty. Hell, he seldom does off duty! So he really is concerned._ And she knew that the others would not interpret it this way.

But, at least subconsciously, Stabler knew how to interpret gestures and facial expressions. He heard Goren trail off, and as he saw Eames pale a bit and raise her eyebrows he knew that Goren had said something of high significance.

"What is it?" Deakins was faster than Stabler. "Do you really think that she's the next?"

"I would not exclude Carolyn," Goren mumbled. "He may also continue with someone else of my circle of… friends. But in the end he will target her."

He glanced at his partner. Eames did not flinch. The only sign of nervousness he could find was a glimmer in her eyes.

"We took precautions," she said. "He won't have a chance to get to me."

"I really hope that." Deakins' frown spoke volumes, too. His gaze drifted out of the office where he spotted a visitor. "What is this guy doing here again?" he wondered, a hint of annoyance in his voice when he recognized the P.I. from Atlanta. "Keep me in the loop. I want to talk with you two before you leave," he said and left for his office.

"What about you, Bobby?" Stabler suddenly asked.

Goren looked at him incredulously. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," Stabler confirmed. "We're all worried about Eames, especially you, but what about you?"

_An interesting question,_ Eames thought. _He tends to forget to worry about himself_.

"Stalker usually turn against their object of desire if they have to notice that their interest is not returned," Stabler added. "Don't you think this might happen here as well?"

"He's not an usual stalker," Goren mused. "I don't see him turn against me personally. He would chose an indirect way to punish me… such as to kill someone who's important to me."

"Which brings us back to Alex," Benson agreed.

Goren nodded.

"Okay, then let's have a look at his MO and signature again. There must be something that can tell us how to find him."

For a moment Stabler just watched his colleagues getting back to work with newfound enthusiasm. He was still skeptical. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that they might be mistaken.

xxx

**Manhattan**

After their discussion with Goren Benson and Stabler were on the road to check on the crime scene at the construction site again. Stabler had pointed out that there was the possibility that the guy was watching the crime scene procedure and had found hints in the arrangement of Davenport's body. The way the containers had been placed channeled the view on the scene. Now they wanted to check on this fact at the scene itself.

With the sketch in hand they went along the fence, searching for the hole, they had spotted on the photos.

"Okay, here it is," Stabler said. He leaned forward to examine the hole. Looking over his shoulder he tried to estimate the distance to the containers between which Lindsay Davenport had been found. "This is a good place to watch," he mused, approaching the place where her body had been found. "It's not too far away and if nobody stood in the line of sight everything will have been plainly visible."

"So this proves the theory that he's voyeuristic?" Benson watched him skeptically. "CSU certainly did not examine the further surrounding."

"I don't think so." Stabler started for the gate again. "Let's look from the outside."

"I was astonished how you got Goren back on the case," Benson remarked as she went along the fence beside him. "And since when do you call each other by first name?"

"Wasn't me. I just asked some questions."

"You think it was Alex?"

Stabler nodded. "She grounds and balances him." They reached the entrance and turned to the right to walk the same way back outside of the fence. "I guess that's the secret of their partnership. She can just bounce off or absorb his intensity. Either way he gets rid of it and is able to remain focused. Oh, and I offered him to call me Elliot when we had a discussion. That was when you've been in Brooklyn."

Benson remained skeptical. He could tell by her frown.

"You could notice during the last days," he added. "Bobby started to fall apart without her."

"Do you believe the rumors?"

"Which one? That he's nuts or that they're a couple?"

"Chose one."

"Neither one nor the other. You have to find out how to take him. And _that_ really is the hard part, I guess. Today he has proven that he's relatively easy to get along with. But to reach this point is quite difficult," Stabler murmured. "He's got strong issues with trust. If I wouldn't know better I'd almost say that he has some kind of social phobia."

He met his partner's incredulous stare and chuckled.

"Hey, do you remember the case with this girl who skipped classes?"

"Who was bullied almost to death by her classmates?" Benson frowned. "Yeah, I do."

"I was just reminded of what she had answered when you asked her if she'd been afraid of them before she was attacked. She said, _I felt sorry for them because they fear me_. _None of them understands me and I don't understand them, because I never had friends of my age_."

"What do you want to tell me? That this bear of a man is insecure towards others and hides it with arrogance?"

"I can imagine him in a similar situation. Not today but back in school. And no, I don't think that he's acting, I think that he just appears to be arrogant because he simply knows so much."

Benson saw his thoughtful frown and wondered.

"What have you two talked about when we were in Brooklyn?"

He did not answer at once. For a long minute he just looked at her.

"He called _me_ arrogant and a lose cannon," he finally replied.

Benson stared at him. Slowly a mischievous grin spread over her face.

"Well, you can be both," she said.

"Oh, thanks, Liv," he grumbled, but he was grinning. "Seriously. I think that he is a very emotional and intense man. He puts his entire energy into the case he's assigned to. I think he's holding back because of us."

"Hmmm… I wonder who gave him reason to do that," she teased.

He crumpled a page of his notepad to try and shoot her.

xxx

Sitting in Eames' living room, unable to sleep, watching, waiting, he recalled his conversation with Logan from earlier that day.

"_You're soul mates," Logan had said. He had choked back a laughter when he watched Goren. "You'd do everything for her, wouldn't you?" - "I'd give my life for hers."_

That was what he felt and he knew that he would be true to his word if they should come in a corresponding situation. He could live with getting shot… but he could not live with losing her.

Right at the moment he was mad at her for being mad at him. Yes, she had not the same ability to read people as he had, but she was a damn fine cop and should be able to come to the same conclusion. She annoyed him and he did not know why. Because she was female?

_She _really_ is a woman, _he told himself_. And what a woman! My partner can turn me upside down with just one look_. He sighed. _She knows me so well. And yet there is enough she doesn't know, she doesn't have to know… To let her know could possibly ruin our partnership._

To think about this subject let his heart beat faster again. This afternoon had changed them, had changed their partnership, their relationship.

He would be damned if he let this endanger what they had. He would not let threaten and ruin their partnership by a mere fantasy.

xxx

Inwardly he chuckled.

_There he goes, sitting in __her living room, maybe sleeping on the sofa. Trying to guard her._

_You should know that you can't keep her safe. If I want to get her, then I will get her._

Once more he chuckled. An evil laughter erupted from his lips and vanished into the night. His imagination ran wild and he recalled the evening at the bar.

_They have been so close. I would have been able to touch them._ He sneered. _I almost did. When someone bumped into me, I was a mere inch away from him._

_Up to this moment I never thought about the possibility not to take her. I just did realize that when Detective Mike talked about them being soul mates. Bobby's reply was prizeless._

_Yeah, it will be most challenging to invite the big detective directly into the game. He did not react the way I expected him to. Maybe this all was show and he is closer than I believe him to be. I should not risk that._

_To give in to this new fantasy should be satisfying. Nicky would kill me for that, but she is in jail… where she will remain for the time being._

He climbed into the loading space, where he lit up a camping lamp to finish some preparations. Soon his prey would be struggling here. As much as it could struggle. He did not plan on to give it any opportunity.

He laughed.

_I'm coming_. _Prepare yourselves for a long and rocky road ahead._

xxx

**Queens**

How long had he been sleeping? Stabler did not want to know. He also did not want to find out why he woke with a start. Suddenly he had been awake, staring in the streetlight's twilight.

So he lay on his back, trying not to start to think, but to no avail. The day's events crept back in his consciousness and made it impossible to relax.

Unable to fall asleep again, Stabler slid out of the bed and sneaked out and down the stairs.

_Why can't I get rid of this terrible feeling that something will happen this night? Odd feelings and suspicions are Goren's job_.

He sat down on the couch in the living room and got the folder he had brought from work to spread its content over the table.

_Okay, Goren said that the murder of Stephanie Fountain had been a message, but we didn't figure out what the killer wanted to tell him._

So he put these photos in the middle. Just to stare at them didn't reveal the answer, as little as it did back in the office.

_It must be in the posture_, he thought._ The arch's telling us that she belongs to the same string of murders, but he arranged her differently. And she's the only one with closed eyes. And she was not held captive before he killed her. There are just minimal ligature marks on her wrists, so she can't have been bound for long. He just got her, tied her up, brought her in there and killed her._

_She also wasn't stabbed to death. The stabs were postmortem. He broke her neck._

_Then he pushed her into position._

_He has planned to use this hotel room a long time ago. This guy has bought the tickets weeks in advance. He knew that he wanted to leave a body there even before he started._

_Could this all really center around Bobby?_

Stabler felt chilly despite of the summer's heat. He could not dismiss this feeling of something going completely wrong.

_Dammit! I should sleep! How am I supposed to work when I can't get a decent night's sleep?_

But he knew that there was no chance for him sleeping until he did not solve this riddle.

xxx

**Manhattan**

Goren got up from the sofa and stretched his hurting limbs. He yawned.

_I should sleep soon_, he scolded himself. _Otherwise I'm really of no use tomorrow. Sleep deprivation just adds to my exhaustion and stress. It would certainly knock my brain out anytime soon._

His view wandered over to the entertainment center and fell on the digital clock of the VCR.

_Today_, he corrected. _I'd never thought that it's so early in the morning._

He strolled over to the window and looked out down on the street. It was this time of the night, New York was almost asleep. Almost, the city never really slept. Somewhere in the nine million metropolis someone certainly was awake and active at any time.

But this street lay silent. Every so often a car passed, that was all. Goren was just about to return to the sofa when something caught his attention. He froze, his gaze resting on the next corner of the building across the street. Had he seen movement there?

Yes! Someone was right at the corner, leaning against the wall.

_Shall I wake her up?_ Goren considered. _Call for backup?_

He looked out again. The shadow he had seen was gone. Had he seen anything at all?

_I should check that_, he mused. So he picked up his holster, fastened it to his belt and put the jacket back on. Then he got his keys and cautiously closed the door behind himself.

Down on the street he crossed the pavement and strolled over to the corner. There was nobody.

_I'm chasing ghosts_, Goren thought. Inwardly he chuckled. _It's the stress and the tiredness. I start to see stars and non-existent people. I really should try to get some sleep before I accidentally shoot someone._

Down this road he saw a car parked in front of a small store. Nothing unusually, really, but the next second his hand jerked to his gun when he saw a man sitting in the car's passenger seat. Goren crossed the street.

"NYPD," he said, presenting his badge with his right. "Would you please come out of the car, sir?"

"Sure." Slowly, holding his hands within Goren's sight, the man opened the door and got out of the car. "Hello, Detective Goren."

Over the hood Goren looked at the guy and recognized Kirkpatrick, the P.I. from Atlanta.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he asked suspiciously.

"I guess the same as you," Kirkpatrick replied. "I'm watching over your partner."

"Tell me why?"

"Well, she matches the profile. She'll probably attract the killer. But you already know that."

Yeah, he knew. Goren let his hand drop and fixed his jacket.

"You don't look so good," Kirkpatrick said. "Were you awake the whole time?"

Goren nodded. "More or less," he admitted. "Dozed off and woke up in minute's rhythm."

"Ugh, that's bad." The private eye grimaced. "Want some coffee?"

Coffee? He needed sleep, no coffee. On the other hand he suspected that he would not be able to sleep anyway. In this case coffee sounded great.

Kirkpatrick dove into the car again to pick the thermo and two mugs up.

"It's almost fresh. I got it from the diner around the corner." Encouragingly he held up the thermo and a mug. When he got no answer he just put everything on the hood and poured two cups, holding one to Goren. Then he drank from his own. "It's not poisoned," he joked. "C'mon, you really look as if you could use it."

Hesitantly Goren accepted the mug. Kirkpatrick took another gulp. In the car Goren saw a bag of the deli and a plastic bowl with the rests of a salad. He figured that Kirkpatrick really got the coffee from there and tasted it. The man from Atlanta grinned.

"It's good, isn't it? I'm here for the third night and this coffee served me well before." He drank again. "Why did you come down? Saw the man at the corner?"

"So you saw him, too."

"Yeah. He was smoking for a while and strolled off again. Nothing suspicious." He grinned at Goren. "The coffee's good, right?"

"I know the diner. They're always making good coffee." He appreciated the hot brew. So he took several gulps more.

"I noticed that." The P.I. sipped at his coffee, glancing over the rim. "Hey." He put his mug down on the hood. "There's someone."

"Where?"

"There, at the entrance to her house," Kirkpatrick replied and started towards Eames' apartment house.

Goren took another gulp of his coffee and followed the P.I. He did not see anyone. So he could just tag along behind the former cop down the street.

"Where is he gone?" Goren asked.

"I have seen him head this way!" Kirkpatrick turned to the left. "Perhaps we can still find him. You can park over there in the alley. We should check this."

Even with his handicapped leg he was faster when he strode for the alley now. He was not limping as bad as the other days.

"Hey, look at this. A dark van. Let's check it!" Kirkpatrick was hilarious. "Might be the van we're searching for."

As he approached, Goren also saw the dark blue van parked behind dumpsters._ Must not be the one but could be. But we can't try and check every dark van in New York just because it's dark._

"I could try if it's open," Kirkpatrick said, reaching for the sliding door. "Accidentally…"

Kirkpatrick seemed to be more concentrated on Goren than on his task.

"There won't be any accidents. You're not a cop anymore."

"You just said it, I'm not a cop." And he stepped closer to the door. Looking over his shoulder he threw Goren a lopsided grin. "I never was."

Once again Goren frowned. He did not like the guy. And he did not like this grin either. Still, these simple three words did not register. Why was he staring at him this way?

"What's the matter?" Goren asked, obviously annoyed. Kirkpatrick's stare was irritating.

Kirkpatrick remained unimpressed. "I'm just waiting," he answered.

"Waiting? What are you waiting for?"

Kirkpatrick just shrugged his shoulders. "Can't take long anymore."

Goren's frown deepened.

Kirkpatrick slid the door of the van open. It revealed an empty loading space. There lay a shoe. It was a green slipper with extravagant woven leather strands and Goren knew he had seen it before.

xxx

**Queens**

Stabler stared at the photos spread over the low table in his living room. Right at this moment his gaze fell on the crime scene photo of Patricia Douglas and her feet. The left one of her designer slippers was missing.

He frowned. That was unlike the killer who usually was very thorough with his victims and their posture. So he picked up the photo which was only showing the feet and the green slipper. The leather strands covering the instep were woven in a complicated pattern.

But to stare at that did not help either.

Stabler threw the picture back on the table and slumped in the cushions of the backrest. He was tired, but something made him restless, unable to fall asleep.

The low sound of bare feet approaching had him look around towards the entrance.

"What are you doing here at four in the morning?" Kathy scolded.

"Thinking." He turned forward again, frowning. Then he shuffled the photos together.

"Is that necessary?" she asked.

He shook his head and pushed the photos into a folder. "I can't stop to think about what I miss," he admitted. "It must be plain to see, so plain that I miss it."

"What are you looking for?"

"Some kind of clue." The evidence was banned into the cardboard folder so he began to scribble on a pad and caught himself, making dots the way the stabs were arranged on Stephanie Fountain's body.

"Looks like stars," Kathy remarked and dropped into an easy chair opposite of the sofa he was sitting on. Her husband just stared at her. "Yeah, star constellations, zodiacs," she specified.

It had just hit her mind and she spoke out loud before she even realized it, but he jumped up and headed for the shelf to get out an atlas. Flipping through the pages he found what he was looking for, a map of star constellations.

Both of them leaned over the table to look at it. Once more it was Kathy who found the connection.

"Here," she pointed out. "Could really be one of the zodiacs, the Libra."

He bent closer and held his sketch next to it. "Yeah, that might be it… the Libra." His voice trailed off, his mind racing forward, trying to find the meaning behind the symbol. Remembering the posture, the girl was found in, he held his right arm in front of his boy, the left slightly raised… when he closed his eyes, it hit him.

"Damn!" he shouted, jumping up from the sofa. "Damn!"

"What's wrong?" Kathy asked, startled.

"Oh, shit! I can't believe it! We were so… stupid!"

"Can you scream a bit louder?" Kathy snarled at him. "The kids can't hear you."

"These dots… they make the Libra?" He pointed at the sketch. "It belongs to the case. The way, one of… what would you make of this?" he asked, standing straight, the left arm raised and the right in front of him. "If I were a woman and I would be blindfolded…"

For a moment Kathy looked at him aghast. Then realization dawned. "Justice," she said.

He nodded.

"And you know what? I'm sure that he knew… he knew it all along. That's why he acted so strange. He knew that this guy would go search for a victim working for the system, maybe the department. It was a clear sign for who he would target next. But he still played it down."

While he was talking, he went over to the hall to fetch his shoes. Coming back in, he had his jacket in hands and grabbed for the folder.

"Elliot! It's hardly half past four. Where do you want to go?"

"Knock him out of his suit," he grumbled. "I guess I know where I can find him."

"Who?"

"Goren. He will be where I would be if I had to assume that my partner's in danger."

"Wouldn't it be better to call first?"

Once again he stared at her. Then he got his cell phone and hit the quick dial he had programmed earlier. Just the mailbox.

"He's not answering. I'll go and…"

"…dress," Kathy cut him short. "You're just in shorts. You won't go anywhere like that."

xxx

**Manhattan**

_Too obvious_, was the first thought that came to Goren's mind. His instincts kicked in and alarmed him._ The keys are in the lock! And these ropes… _He backed off, his left hand on the butt of his gun.

"I wouldn't do this if I were you," Kirkpatrick said. He leaned against the van, watching Goren intensely. "You might hurt yourself."

Even before he could pull out the weapon Goren felt dizziness creep inside of his head. _I'm just waiting, he had said. Can't take long… What? What has he done?_ Yet, he drew and aimed at Kirkpatrick.

"You should put the gun to the ground, Bobby," his opposite said, his voice changing. It was low, melodically and somewhat hypnotically. "Before someone's getting shot."

_I don't think that's such a good idea._ The tone alone gave Goren the creeps. He stepped further backwards and hit one of the dumpsters with his back.

"If you want to try, you should make sure you're killing me, because I'll otherwise be there when you're waking up again."

"You…" _The coffee_… Panic rose.

"What about me?" Slowly he came closer, his moves a threatening flow like the moves of a predator, like a cougar. He sounded amused, "You finally realized that you fell for it the same way all the others did? You didn't even notice. It wasn't the coffee I prepared but the cup. So I could drink the same coffee without any problem." He smiled wickedly. "Now it's too late. So put it down."

"No way." His own voice was hoarse. He could not focus on Kirkpatrick. Everything began to spin. His breaths became deeper and harder now in a futile attempt to clear his mind.

"Either you shoot now or you don't shoot at all. But think of Alex, too."

"Alex?" His vision blurred and the gun seemed to weigh a ton. His hands began to tremble with the effort it took to keep it raised. Even in his confused state of mind he realized that he had been terribly wrong and that he was about to lose this game.

"Yes, your partner. The one I wanted to take at first. But then you were so generous to offer yourself." Kirkpatrick was so close now that he almost touched the muzzle of Goren's gun with his chest. "If you drop the gun now and come with me voluntarily I won't pursue her further. Your choice."

_Shoot him_, a voice deep within his soul cried. But he could not pull the trigger. Instead the weight of the gun finally drew his arms down and made him stumble forward into the embrace of Kirkpatrick. The weapon was wound out of his hands and he felt the hands that grabbed his arms to spin him round and smash him into the dumpster. His arms were jerked behind his back and cuffed. When Kirkpatrick seized him backwards to the van his world was whirling, the grey walls of the surrounding buildings rotating like tumbleweeds. He was pushed inside of the loading space and Kirkpatrick followed, sliding the door shut.

Goren lay on his back, pinned to the van's floor by the other man's weight. He wanted to scream, yet, he was not able to do so.

_Alex! Help!_ was his last conscious thought before he was lost to the swirling black stream, which swept over his mind.

tbc…

* * *

A/N: Okay. Who foresaw that? Show me some kind of reaction, please. Please! Thanks! 


	12. Chapter 11

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: This one's (of course) for my beta and for blucougar, because she's putting the bar to reach so high. Welcome.

Special thanks to ConfusedOne, as well as to Bammi1 and Iluvstabler for inspiration and encouragement. Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing.

Have fun. And please review, constructive criticism is always welcome. :)

**11**

**Manhattan**

When Stabler reached Eames' apartment building the street still was deserted. He did not know what kind of car Goren was driving, but he expected him to be with Eames nevertheless.

So he did not waste a single moment and searched for Eames' bell button next to the entrance. It took several tries and a few minutes until she answered.

"Alex? This is Elliot Stabler. Please let me in."

"Elliot?" She sounded very sleepy. Eames opened him the entrance door and then stumbled back into the living room, waiting for him.

Stabler was in her hall just two minutes later.

"You shouldn't have left… the door open," he mumbled when he saw her. She did not look good. Somehow it seemed as if she would be hangover. "Are you okay?" he asked, his worry clearly audible. "Alex?"

"Yes, Elliot," she murmured. "I'm just… groggy. I don't know…"

"Where's your partner?"

"Bobby?" She looked over her shoulder towards the sofa. "He's right… there." She fell silent as she did not find him and frowned.

"He stayed with you, right?" Elliot asked, sitting down in the chair next to her.

"Yeah. Wants to protect me." She gave a low and tired chuckle. "He would be a mess if I wouldn't let him."

"Excuse me," he said, got up again and went for the next door. Questioningly he pointed at it and Eames nodded. "Bobby?" he called. "Are you in there?"

He got no answer, so he went in and discovered that the bathroom was not only dark but also deserted.

"Bobby?" Her voice was shaking and she did not know why. Eames knew for sure that he was not in her bedroom and the kitchen was integrated into the living room, only separated by a counter. So she had no idea where to look now.

Standing under the bathroom door, Stabler felt shivers on his back. His strange feelings returned. Suddenly a gnawing fear fought its way out of the far corner of his mind. Where was Goren?

"Did he sleep on the sofa?" he asked, trying to get Eames focused. Still she seemed to be halfway asleep, unable to shake off the sleepiness.

"Yes, he did," she answered. "I can't imagine where he might have gone."

"Would he leave when he noticed something suspicious?"

"He would have woken me up."

"Sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. We're part…ners," she trailed off. By second thought she was not as sure as she claimed to be. Sometimes her brilliant partner could be a real stupid guy. Not to be sure about a theory might be reason enough for him not to wake her up. "What are you doing here anyway?" Eames wanted to know.

"I couldn't sleep," Stabler confessed. "Instead to rest I found out what the meaning of Fountain's posture is."

"And you had to stop by for that?" she asked incredulously. "Coming all the way from Queens? Just for to tell us about it?"

"I called," he said. "But Goren's cell is inactive and you did not react. I have to admit that I was annoyed to begin with, but now I'm worried. If you don't know where he is…"

He did not mean to scare her, but suddenly realization struck and her hazel eyes lit up with fear.

"Bobby?" she breathed. "I thought he was after me…"

When someone first rang the bell and knocked on the apartment's door in addition, Stabler's hand flew to his gun. In split seconds he drew and aimed the weapon at the entrance, his stance tense with alarm. His shining blue eyes became brighter and icy.

"Who is it?" he barked.

"El? It's me! Olivia!" his partner answered.

"I called her," he said to Eames as he went, his gun still out but aimed at the floor, to open the door to let Benson in. "Was the main entrance open?"

"Someone just came out when I arrived," she answered.

"Who?" Eames wanted to know.

"A guy, around thirty, 6 feet, brown hair, sport clothes, mp3 player on."

"Will have been Turner," Eames mused. "He's always going on a run before work." Color had drained from her face. "Where's Bobby?" she whispered.

"Does he have his car here?" Stabler asked.

"Yes." She hurried over to the window to look for it. "It's still parking there," she stated. "Let's go have a look."

Eames vanished in her bedroom for to return not a minute later in jeans and shirt, holster on her belt. She still looked shaken and not quite awake.

Down on the street they approached the car cautiously.

They were looking at it thoroughly. No trace of its owner, though. Goren was nowhere in sight and Eames became more and more nervous.

"Should we open it?" Eames asked, trying not to show it.

"Do you have keys?" Stabler replied. "Otherwise we would have to break it open."

"Damn! Where's Bobby?" Eames got her cell phone out to hit speed dial. She had to wait for a moment until his cell phone reacted.

Then it rang inside of the car.

Eames just pulled her gun out and smashed the window of the car to get in. She opened the door and dove in to fetch the phone.

"God, it's really Bobby's," she panted, her gaze darting around for a trace of him. "Where the hell did he go?"

"Any place around here he might have gone to?" Stabler asked.

"A diner just around the corner… but he could have gotten everything he liked out of my fridge. He had no reason to leave."

"Go check on your apartment again?" Stabler suggested. "I'll have a closer look at the car."

"I'll go with her," Benson said.

Her partner nodded. So they went to go back upstairs again while he turned to the SUV. Stabler looked up because he heard a dull thump. It sounded as if something fell against metal, a weight onto a car roof for example. So he turned in the direction of the noise and went into a narrow passage right across the street from Eames' place. Next thing he noticed were the shadows of a dark van parked next to dumpsters. It probably had been the door sliding shut.

Cautiously he approached the vehicle. Movement here at this time was suspicious. His hand lay on the butt of his gun, in case he should need it. The further he went in, the darker the alley became. Adrenalin shot into his system.

Eames and Benson just went back to the apartment, so he had no backup right now.

Stabler had to decide to try and find out what was going on there by himself, or if he called and waited for his colleagues to arrive.

Before he could make up his mind he spotted a shadow out of the corner of his eyes. Reflexively he pulled out the gun to aim. His _police_-shout caught in his throat when a bar hit his right upper arm. The weapon dropped out of his stunned hand. His arm was instantly rendered useless. In a second the shadow closed in on him, throwing him backwards against a dumpster. The metal box thundered under the impact.

Damn! He tried to fight the attacker off with his left. Something hit his head and he tumbled to the side. White hot pain shot through his back and he fell unconscious.

xxx

_Hey, where's _he_ suddenly coming from? Why did he come over here at this time of the night?_

The grin that crept on his face resembled a hyena.

_What is faith telling me? That can't be a coincidence._ His grin became softer, a warm smile of admiration. Then it crumpled.

_It's a damned risk. I'd have to keep him under control. How shall I do that with two of them?_

Curiously he had watched as Elliot Stabler had come out of the building, right beside Detective Alex and his own partner, Olivia Benson. Then they had examined Bobby's car.

Longingly he looked down at the slim figure. He could not deny that he was tempted. More than tempted. He felt a growing throbbing while he studied the perfect body spread on the pavement, appearing in shades of green through the night goggles.

_And if I would refrain from taking Bobby? That would be easier, but I would rob myself of the opportunity to play with the big detective._

He knew that he had to make a decision before the detective woke up again. His possibilities flashed through his mind.

_I never dealt with two captives, _he thought. _At least not this way. I overpowered and killed more than one at one time but I never held two prisoners. And they are both cops._

He grinned. _It would be a challenge. Yeah, this would be good_.

_How does it come that the SVUs are here? Did Alex wake up and notice that Bobby wasn't in the apartment anymore? Has she called them? No, the time was too short. Did they notice that I got his stuff out of there?_

He chuckled. _Alex didn't even become aware of my visit. She was fast asleep. I guess if she'd know that I was inside of her apartment she'd freak out._

_No,_ he scolded himself. _She wouldn't freak out. She's too much of a cop to freak out over a burglary. But she certainly would if she'd had any possibility to know where her partner is right at this moment._

Once more he studied the still motionless detective.

_Damn. It would be too much. I can't handle them both_. He knew that only seconds remained, until the female detectives would be back. He had to decide now.

_What a bummer! Damn!_

He looked at the street where Eames and Benson came out of the house again. A shudder of joy washed over him. _She looks worried. Well, she has every reason to be worried. See you, Alex. And don't be too scared. I'll take good care of him._

So he turned to his van, ran to slide the door shut, climbed in and drove off as fast as he could.

xxx

Pain was the first thing he felt. A searing pain that spread from the base of his neck, just above the shoulder blades. That was why he did not notice at once the roaring engine of the starting van. When he realized that it was about to speed off, he tried to get up, but sank back again.

Dizziness tried to claim him, yet he grabbed for his gun, just for to notice that the holster was empty. He had no chance to see the plates or any other detail. Just the tail lights where dancing in the black.

_That must have nothing to do with Goren's disappearance_, he thought. But he could not deny that it was quite a coincidence at this hour.

Still he was dizzy but forced himself to push himself up.

"Elliot!" Olivia cried out as she rushed into the alley. "Are you okay?"

Her partner still was on the ground. He groaned and held his neck as he pushed himself in a sitting position. His head was still spinning.

"Elliot?"

"Go get him," he croaked.

Benson looked down the alley. The tail lights of the car already had vanished into darkness. Now she saw Eames coming back to their position.

"I haven't seen anything," she breathed, "least of all the license."

"What happened anyway?" Benson asked, squatting beside Stabler. "Why were you attacked?"

"I'm not sure," he moaned. "I heard something and went into the alley to check on it. I saw a dark van and went to have a closer look, already drew my weapon… and then I was hit."

"Have you seen anything before?" Eames wanted to know.

Stabler lowered his view, but to look at the concrete did not make it easier.

"I have seen that someone was lying into the van," he groaned. "A man. More I haven't seen."

Eames gasped. She did not want to draw the conclusion that it might have been Goren who was in the car.

"This would absolutely be against the profile," Benson breathed. "Why should the killer take Goren? He's chasing women. So he was supposed to go after Alex."

"Well, he targeted Bobby," Stabler contradicted with some effort, trying to get up. "He is fixated on him, on his mind, his profiling abilities. He challenged Bobby from the start, so let's try find out why our perp changed his mind and decided to directly interact with him instead to watch him struggle from the distance."

"We should ask Carolyn," Eames suggested. "She's a profiler, too."

Benson was on the phone now, giving dispatch the information about the dark van for the BOLO. She was not very optimistic because they had no details about the car or the license, but they had to try nevertheless.

The woman doing the graveyard shift on the phone reacted swiftly. Soon every cop in New York would be on his guard for dark vans.

They had to find it fast or the trace would be cold.

"I also called CSI," Benson said when she joined the others at Goren's car again. "Taylor told me that he would send us Munroe.

"She will have to deal with his car," Stabler said. "But I don't think that she will find very much there."

"They should have a look at my apartment, too," Eames mumbled.

The other two looked at her, stunned.

"Well, when we were up there minutes ago, I noticed that some of Bobby's stuff is gone. Such as his binder. I don't think that he would have taken it with himself when he went to check on something suspicious."

That sounded logical. So the killer must have been in her home. How ballsy did he have to be? This idea was disturbing. They had to know for sure. CSI would have to search for signs of forced entry.

**One P****olice Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

It was official: Goren was missing.

Logan arrived just a few minutes after Barek and Deakins' came in right at this moment.

Barek was on the phone, talking with Eames, supporting her to remain focused. She could hear how her colleague fought for strength as she gave her the scarce information they had. In every word she could hear Eames' worry for her partner.

Back in a corner of her mind, Barek already started to draw a rough profile. So far no one had said anything about this, but she assumed that now Eames would be in charge of the case, maybe even Stabler. She thought about how she could support them best.

"You're okay?" Logan whispered to her.

"I'm fine," she replied lowly, her hand over the mouthpiece. "Well, given the circumstances."

"Alex?"

She just smiled at him a sad smile.

"Can I have a word with you?" Deakins addressed them and waved them over into his office. When Barek and Logan sat down opposite his desk he sank in his chair heavily.

"After the surprising twist the case has taken, I want to assign you to the case, too. Please drop your other cases or give them to colleagues. You're working solely on this case."

"Who will take charge?" Barek asked before Logan could come up with any question.

"I'm going to assign Stabler."

"What about Eames?" Logan threw in. "She would be pissed when you'll take the case from her."

_I'd be pissed, too_, Deakins thought. "I didn't say that I'd take the case from her. I'm intending to keep them in charge together."

"Stabler already has a partner," Barek said. "What about her?"

"This is not about partners," Deakins explained. "I'm just distributing responsibilities. I don't want Eames to carry it all alone."

"She wouldn't be alone. She has us to support her," Logan grumbled.

"Technically both squads were in charge since they started to cooperate," Deakins said. "So I'll go with Stabler and Eames taking over charge together."

Logan frowned. "She won't be pleased."

"I'm not here to please people, but to make decisions," Deakins replied. "And one of those decisions is that you're going to help the others trying to find witnesses."

Now Logan's frown deepened. Paperwork _and_ door to door questioning! He was very _pleased_, too.

"There's not much else we can do," Logan grumbled when they finally got into their car to drive to Eames' place. "At least not right now.

Barek remained silent and sank down in the passenger's seat.

"Didn't Bobby base his theory on chess?" Logan asked.

"Yes, he did," Barek confirmed absently. She was busy with her thoughts.

"So why has the killer now abducted him? Wasn't the last token a chess queen?"

Thoughtfully Bared twisted one of her dark curls around her fingers.

"Maybe he interpreted it wrong," she said. "Maybe this queen threatened his king, put him on the spot."

"Damn. And we were even talking about it," Logan murmured.

Barek looked up at him. "Talking about what?" she queried softly.

He gripped the steering wheel harder. "Bout Eames. Bobby told me that he was worried for her safety." He trailed off.

Barek could tell by his choked up voice that he suffered. "What is it, Mike?"

"Bobby. He… he said something I can't get out of my mind now." Once more he fell silent. His partner waited patiently while he just concentrated on the growing traffic. "He said… that… he would give his life for her."

Barek swallowed. _It is as if the guy would know about that. When he has just a small idea of what Eames really means to him, he has a dangerous tool in his hands for to control and torture Bobby._

Even if he was not a trained profiler, Logan right now thought about the same. And it was not the first time he thought about his own relationship to his own partner. Yes, he had told Bobby that he would do the same for Barek. Now he realized what he had said and he wondered if he would be true to his word in case he had to make this choice.

_The killer relieved Bobby of the po__ssibility to make this decision, _he thought._ He abducted him. Whatever he planned to do with him, to him, the detective now had no other choice than to bear it._

"Mike?" Barek asked.

"I'm okay," he lied.

"You're thinking about Bobby. I am, too."

Yes, he was. And it weren't pleasant thoughts. He knew Goren, knew his way with people and that he was very capable to defend himself. That the killer had been able to take him down and make him vanish without to raise anyone's attention… it gave Logan the creeps to think about it.

He pulled the car up on the curb in front of Eames' apartment building and they got out. Stabler was the first one they met.

"Alex and Olivia are already questioning neighbors," he said, approaching them. "Deakins just called me."

"Do you already have something?" Logan asked.

"A royal headache," Stabler mumbled, rubbing his neck. "Nothing really important. Goren just disappeared. As long as we don't have confirmation of any kind we just can assume that he was taken."

"He would not just leave Alex. He wanted to protect her," Logan snapped.

"I know!" Stabler glared at him. "That's why I came here, because this perp told us that he would take someone from the department, someone who's important for Goren."

"How did he tell us?" Barek asked, intrigued.

"The way Fountain's body was arranged," Stabler explained. "She resembled Justice."

"Justice," Barek fell silent thoughtfully. She remembered the crime scene photos she had seen and started to analyze them. "You're right. Why haven't we seen this earlier?" She was angry at herself. "We should have noticed that. Why has Bobby not seen this?"

"Maybe he has," Stabler said. "Maybe this was why he was so worried for Alex. Because he knew that the killer would target her next."

"When he was that worried he should have told us!" Logan became annoyed.

"But Stabler is right, Mike," Barek threw in. "Bobby is that way. He's always trying to protect everyone… just thinks he's responsible for everyone, that he can handle it. He can keep them safe."

"How can he tell? He doesn't know him at all!" Logan was fuming. "He tried to discredit him the whole time since they met!"

"_He's_ standing right in front of you," Stabler growled. "So don't talk about me as if I'm not here, especially if you're just going to lash out at me because you're angry at Bobby."

"I'm not angry at Bobby!" Logan closed in on him. "Don't talk to me about him. You're not qualified to do that."

Stabler frowned deeply. He did not feel like arguing with Logan. This was not about them, this was about Goren.

"Alex gave me these pictures," he said and handed one over to Barek. "We have to question neighbors. If you would start over there," he motioned to the building next to Eames'. With discomfort he noticed that Logan stared at him with open contempt. Deakins just had assigned charge of the case to Eames and him, so he did not want to ruin their relationship before it could develop. He made this mistake with Goren and he did not intend to repeat it.

Barek laid her hand on Logan's shoulder reassuringly and he backed off. Stabler watched them go. What a horrible night. He was not sure if he wanted this special job. He could not take Logan's mood amiss. As well as the others he was worried for his colleague and friend.

In the meantime other cops had arrived. The uniformed officers supported the detectives' search for witnesses. Stabler strolled over to the car where Munroe still was working.

"I guess these traces were placed," she said. "The cell phone, a coffee mug… I'll go to the apartment soon."

It was then that Stabler spotted a man carrying two plastic bags, stuffed with what probably was his sole belongings. So he went over to him.

"Sir?"

At first the homeless man did not react uncertain if it was him who was addressed.

"You're talking to me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. Maybe you can help me." He flashed his badge. "Have you been around here this night?"

The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I use to sleep not so far away," he admitted cautiously. "Haven't done anything. Who…?"

"No. You don't have reason to worry." Stabler got out a photo of Goren. "Have you seen him last night?"

The man took the picture to study it closely. "I'm not sure," he mumbled. "I'd need glasses, but they're broken. What has he done, officer?"

"Actually he went missing," Stabler explained. "Just tell me what you've seen."

"Saw two tall men. One had dark hair and could be this guy on the pic. They went over to the alley."

"Have you seen what they've done there?"

He shook his head. "Nope. They went in, vanished in the darkness. That's all."

"Can you describe the second man?"

"Also tall, brighter hair, jeans, I guess. Everything else was blurry cause I'm shortsighted."

"Who went there first?" Stabler dug deeper. "Or did they go together?"

"The man with the brighter hair went first, the other followed close by. Looked as if the first wanted to show the other something. He waited at the corner and motioned the other man to come along."

That sounded as if Goren went with the guy voluntarily. It did not make sense at all.

"Could you try and describe the man to one of our sketch artists?" Stabler asked.

"I can try, but I don't think that I'll be a big help."

"It's still worth a try," he encouraged the man. "I'll arrange a ride to our squad for you."

Still the man was skeptical but he did not dare to contradict. Maybe this also was worth a meal. This thought brightened up his mood and he remembered something else.

"I've seen the man in a car," he said.

Stabler was electrified. "In a car? Which car?"

"Over there," the man pointed. "They met at the car before they went to the alley. I think the dark haired man had a gun. That's why I thought he might be the bad guy."

"Were they talking?"

"Yeah, talking, drinking together. Then they went over here."

"Okay, which car is it?"

"The Chrysler."

Stabler spotted it at once. "Munroe," he called. "I've got more work for you."

He asked a uniformed officer to take the man to the MCS squad rooms and went for the car, Munroe on his heels.

xxx

**unknown location**

He hurt. At the moment Goren could not tell why, but he hurt much.

Everything was dark and he could not open his eyes because something pressed on the lids. He felt dizzy. When he tried to draw in a deep steadying breath he choked. He felt his mouth blocked by something soft, possibly out of leather or rubber. It was stuffed inside and filled his whole oral cavity, making it impossible to give any sound. When he tried to push it out with his tongue he had to notice that this was impossible, too. Something was attached to the ball and strapped around his head, parting his jaws and holding the gag in place.

Starting from a tight knot in his gut, panic rose inside of him and spread through his system. He desperately tried to control it because he knew that it might prove fatal if he had to throw up. Gagged like this he would most likely asphyxiate.

As soon as his muscles tensed his whole body was on fire. A fierce pain shot from his neck down his spine and the other way round and made him shake. The choking feeling increased with his need for air and the corresponding gasps for breath.

If he had thought that just his possibilities of articulation and perception were limited by gag and blindfold he was awfully wrong. As a matter of fact his possibilities to move were non-existent.

Lying on his right side, his hands were cuffed behind his back, while his feet were bound with a rope. The same rope was tied to the cuffs in a short length that forced him to bend his knees. In this position his extremities were held in constant strain and his muscles protested agonizingly.

He clenched his teeth over the gag and tried to stop his body from the instinctive writhing.

A scream of pain rose from his throat and was muffled by the gag to a bare whimper that never ever would be loud enough to be heard over the constant traffic noises that reached his ears.

Tears soaked the blindfold. As he tried to move his head he had to realize that it also was immobilized. Both, gag and blindfold, were bound together and tied to the cuffs, too.

Biting down hard on the ball gag he concentrated only on his breathing until the draws came deep and even through his nose. Now he managed to listen to the sounds he could perceive.

He had to be in some kind of vehicle because he could hear a lot of people moving around, even the muffled footsteps of a whole crowd, together with motors, honking and hooting. But he had no chance to make himself heard.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"Nothing they could work with," Stabler repeated what Munroe had told him just seconds ago on the phone. He sank in his office chair.

"No luck with the car?" Barek asked.

He just shook his head.

"We'll find something."

"Yeah?" he grumbled. "Such as the photofit picture? They're not finished but I guess he's right, it could be anyone."

"We've just started. We won't give up. Everyone makes mistakes and we will find the ones he made," Barek said trying her best to sound confident.

This way Stabler could not be deceived. He heard the hint of grief in her voice and knew that she also was at a loss of ideas right now. Eames and Logan still were out in the field, trying to find witnesses while Stabler and Barek returned to One Police Plaza for to see what the sketch was doing and to collect their results.

But so far there was not much to be collected.

Barek's view drifted out of the room into the bullpen.

"Hey, there's this guy again."

Stabler followed her look and spotted a tall man at the entrance.

"Who's that guy?" he asked her.

"A P.I. from Atlanta. He gave us some information about the third victim. Now he's pestering Deakins, trying to get information from us."

"I could hit someone. Shall I take it out on him?"

Even if she was short of depressed, Barek chuckled. "I don't think that's the best idea."

"Should I get rid of him?"

"I guess Deakins would be glad if he's not running into him when he comes back from the COD. Just… don't hit him in the squad room."

"I'm trying not to," he smirked when he got up to meet the P.I. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to see Captain Deakins," the man said.

"The captain's not here and won't be back soon. Can I do something for you or do you want to leave a message?"

"He promised me to keep me informed about the case. Are detectives Eames or Goren here?"

"No."

"So, maybe you could…"

"No comment on current cases," Stabler said. "I can't help you."

"But…"

"Do you have anything to report? Otherwise you're wasting our time."

The man just frowned a bit. "You don't have to be so harsh," he murmured.

"As you can probably see, we have a lot of work to do. We have no time to waste. If you'd excuse me now." He gestured one of the uniformed officers and pivoted to return to the office, not noticing the glimmer in the other man's eyes, because he already turned his back on him.

But the P.I. once more looked back at him as he followed the cop out to the elevators a small but evil smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

xxx

**unknown location**

A siren. Seconds later followed another one. From the sound of them he could tell that they belonged to black and whites. And there was something else. The way the patrol cars pulled by he suspected them to come directly out of their garage.

_Damn! Might it be possible that I'm close to One Police Plaza?_ This thought hurt his soul more than the bonds hurt his body.

His attempts to remember how he got himself into such a situation were fruitless. He had been sitting on the couch of Eames' living room, to guard her and then… nothing. He felt as if his brain was just a grey incoherent mass.

_I wanted to protect her… and now I'm the one in bondage. What has happened? Did I spot the perp and tried to arrest him? Tried to catch him red__-handed?_

_Where is Eames? Is she also here?_

He tried to call out, but it was merely a grunt and he heard his own moan as response.

_If he has tried to take her, I certainly went to help her_, he mused. _When he has taken me down, what has he done to Eames? Is she injured? Scared? Did she escape? And why am I here, wherever here may be?_

To avert his thoughts he concentrated again on the sounds that reached him. Still there was a lot of traffic.

Then he heard a key being turned. Seconds later someone entered the car and the motor sprang to life. Slowly the vehicle filed into the traffic. When the street rose and the car followed a big curve Goren felt more ropes. They held him in place, avoided him rolling around and smashing into the car's walls.

_If it really was One Police Plaza where this trip started, this might be the Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive_, he thought.

There were no further stops for a long while, then the car left the Freeway. It traveled on and on and on… He wasn't able to still follow the route in his mind.

But he realized another fact! The perp took him away from New York. _He did not wait and then probably release me when he finally got Eames. He's kidnapped _me_ and we're on our way to some hideaway._

The car left asphalted streets and drove down some kind of a field-path. Then it stopped.

The carriage-door was opened and closed. Steps withdrew. It was quiet except of the soft rustling in the trees. Abruptly the sliding door slid open and crashed into its suspension. The springs squeaked as someone climbed in. This someone freed Goren's legs and tampered with the ropes which prevented him from rolling around.

Goren recognized the scent of an aftershave. The smell seemed to be familiar, he just couldn't remember who might have used Davidov. Once the ropes were loose, his arms were grabbed with a firm grip and he was pulled out of the car. His numb legs gave way under his weight. He almost fell but his kidnapper held him upright and dragged him along a path, over to a door. Inside they crossed a single room and from there Goren was led down a long flight of stairs. He had to move very cautiously because it was narrow and steep. His kidnapper only held the rope between head and wrists, certain that he would not try to escape as long as they were on the stairs. Down on the bottom there was another room. Goren tried to plant his feet and to offer some semblance of resistance. The other man leaned against his back with his whole weight and pushed him forward. Goren hit a doorframe with his right shoulder.

The man didn't stop. He forced his captive through the door.

Goren hit something on the ground with his feet and stumbled. He was tugged back and shoved forward. Something touched his shoulder again. From the clanking he guessed that it was a chain. The man took hold of the cuffs and began to thread the chain through. Goren reared. He could wriggle out of the man's grip, but he stumbled and fell. Unable to catch the fall due to his bound arms he crashed hard on the floor. He groaned. The man grabbed his arms again and pulled him up to his feet. Unimpressed by Goren's struggles he seized him into position. Holding chain and cuffs together he secured both of them with a padlock.

Still Goren was gagged and blindfolded. His heart pounded wildly and he had difficulties to remain standing. Still he felt sick and occasionally wobbly. He heard the man rummage around. Then the door was closed. It sounded like it was made out of steel when it fell in its frame, just like the doors of prison cells, and Goren's heart skipped a beat.

"Welcome," a raspy voice said.

Goren went rigid. A _welcome_ was the last he'd expected. He didn't hear him coming. Suddenly his legs were touched and the laces of his shoes were opened.

"Don't try and kick me," the man said. "You would dearly regret it." He grabbed Goren's ankles and, one after the other, lifted his feet to take off the shoes and socks.

Goren fought for his balance. The next were his trousers and pants. And when they were gone, his shirt was ripped off of his body.

Now he was completely naked. For a moment he felt exactly what the guy wanted him to feel - helpless and humiliated - and was almost glad that he wasn't able to respond in any way. If capable he would have gasped when a hand touched his bared throat. Instead he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. A cruel laughter was the direct reaction to the flexing muscles of his neck.

"You're scared?" The man snorted and stroke gently over the larynx. "You should be."

The hand disappeared.

When the man rummaged behind him more chains dangled against Goren's back. A broad shackle closed around his right wrist. Yet, the cuffs held his hands together. He flinched, but there was no way to avoid his left wrist to be shackled, too. The rope that held his head went loose. He flexed the muscles of his shoulders and rolled his head. Nausea overcame him once more and he swayed. The man behind him giggled.

"Don't try and defend yourself. I have to get your hands in front of you."

Goren's left wrist was seized and distorted in a vice-like grip. He felt the man fumble with a key and the cuffs opened.

"C'mon, draw your right hand forward," the man ordered and painfully twisted the other wrist as Goren didn't give in at once.

Goren struggled with the chains to obey the order. From his wrist the pain shot through the forearm up to the shoulder. His left arm was stretched and twisted and he stepped aside to escape the pain. In fact he had no chance. Once in front of his body his wrists were cuffed again and he heard the man go away.

_Who is this guy_, he thought. _This voice… I know I've heard it before._ The headache didn't make it easier to think about the who's and why's. What he definitely knew was that he was in serious trouble.

A machine was started and chains were clanking. The same chains that held his shackles. They were drawn over a wheel at the ceiling and forced him to lift his arms as high above his head as possible. In this position he couldn't move at all.

When hands touched his face he was silently glad that the gag would be removed so he did not attempt to bite when fingers reached inside of his mouth to get the ball gag out. He drew in a deep breath and coughed. Then also the blindfold was gone. But when he opened his eyes he could not see anything. He needed a moment to realize that the room was totally dark.

When the man spoke again his voice wasn't dissembled anymore.

"You seem to be so surprised, Bobby", he said. "Don't you remember our little chit-chat?"

_Kirkpatrick_, he recognized. _If this really is his name_.

"Gee, you hadn't any alcohol. Must be solely the Rohypnol I put into the coffee."

_You bastard! That explains the royal headache_.

"Since you have volunteered, you should be a bit more cooperative," Kirkpatrick suggested. He laughed his cruel laughter when he saw the puzzled look on his captive's face. "Don't look at me like that. It only makes me angry."

_He can see me_, Goren realized. _He must have night-goggles_.

"Don't you know why you're here?" Kirkpatrick asked. "Try a guess!"

But Goren did not reply. He did not feel like talking to this man.

"So incommunicative today? You don't want to try and talk your way out?" Once more he laughed. "I guess Detective Alex will be relieved when she gets to know that you have sacrificed yourself. I have to admit that this really is a noble gesture." He closed in on the bound man. "When I overheard your conversation with Mike I was tempted to take Detective Carolyn, but then I decided that a game with you would be more interesting."

_What a dubious honour_, Goren thought. _I could have done without it_.

He felt something touch his lips and turned his head.

"Don't be silly. It's just water."

Kirkpatrick grabbed Goren's chin and forced him to drink.

"I have to finish some business. Good day to you."

Goren heard Kirkpatrick open the door. Even now there was no light falling in. He felt as if he was going to be buried alive as the door fell closed with a thud.

tbc…

* * *

A/N: I'd really love to know what you think… :) 


	13. Chapter 12

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thanks for the wonderful reviews, thanks a lot. They made me so happy!

Special thanks go to ConfusedOne and Bammi1.

This chapter is for all readers and reviewers! LOL Thanks.

**1****2**

**unknown location**

Inwardly he was laughing. He praised his idea to take the big detective instead of the petite blonde.

_Of course, Detective Alex would be fun, too,_ he thought. _But Bobby will be another challenge._

It was a pity that the detective did not seem to remember how he got caught. It was an irony in itself.

He, though, remembered exactly what it had been like to smash Bobby face forward into the wall of the container, like Bobby would have done himself with his opponent minutes earlier if he had known who Kirkpatrick really was. But right at this moment the drug finally had washed the fight out of him, so that he offered no resistance when he was cuffed and pushed into the van.

He had relished the brief moment when he was sitting on top of the detective, watching his last struggles against the sedative. Even if Bobby did not remember now, he had known exactly what was going on, when he lay there. His features, especially his eyes, displayed very plainly the denial and fear before unconsciousness blanked it out.

Step by step Kirkpatrick went through his memories of how he had tied Bobby up afterwards. He knew that he had to make sure that the man was not able to move a finger once he regained consciousness. It was essential that he, Kirkpatrick, went back to the office to tell his covert story and be present when the other detectives recognized that Detective Goren had vanished. And he could not allow Bobby to alert passer-bys by kicking at the van's walls.

So, his legs were the first he bound and tied to the cuffs. The rope had been longer at first until he realized that it might be too long and he shortened it. Then he put the ball gag into Bobby's mouth and secured it, which would hopefully render him absolutely silent. At the same time he had to be cautious not to choke him. And as well as he knew that the blindfold was not really necessary, he could not resist to use it. Why he did tie these last bonds to the cuffs, too, he did not know. He just knew that it seemed to be a good idea right then. To put on a T he also tied him to the eyes in the body of the van, fortunately provided by the car's manufacturers for to secure any kind of load.

When he went to the bullpen he was, as a matter of fact, disappointed by the reaction of Bobby's colleagues. Obviously no one exactly understood what had happened. Everything seemed to go on as usual.

_And I could not tell them! I had to behave as innocent as possible. No, I just wanted to talk with Captain Deakins. Not here? Okay._

He grinned.

_Sweet little Elliot was already up and working again. Brave boy. I'm glad that I didn't hurt you too bad. You looked incredibly good and rather annoyed about what had happened. I wonder how you would have reacted if you'd know who I am. What a pity that I had to leave you. Hopefully we'll get another chance to be together._

His view was drawn to the screen. As much as he could see, Bobby still was too shocked. He just stood there and stared into the darkness, his normally versatile expression blank.

_You will have time to adjust_, he thought. _We have all the time in the world_.

With that thought he suddenly had the melody of the movie soundtrack on his mind and Louis Armstrong's voice in his ear. _We have all the time in the world… We have all the love in the world. If that's all we have… Combined with the prominent violins this is a wonderful song. Wasn't it George Lazenby who starred in this movie?_

Every title song of the 007-movies was great. Every opening title by itself was a work of art. He just loathed the one out of the newest movie sung by Madonna – Die another day.

_Just like you_, he thought, looking back at the screen. _You, too, will die, but not today_.

His thoughts returned to when he left the police headquarters and climbed into the van. He could tell by the strained breathing that Bobby was awake and he got excited by that notion. Nevertheless, he did not bother talking with him. He just started the engine and drove.

From the beginning it had intrigued him to hear Alex and Deakins call this giant Bobby instead of just Goren or even Robert. On the other hand, Bobby never called her Alex but Eames. He did not know the reason why they did that but he soon started to refer to him as Bobby as well in his thoughts.

Then they arrived here and he had brought Bobby down in the cellar. Not without difficulties. As tall as he was himself he still had problems to handle the detective who stumbled around, weary and disoriented, after being tied up for so long.

He was glad that he had not untied the bondage between head and handcuffs. It made it easier to control him. Though he certainly was scared he also was not ready to give in without a fight. The whole posture of his body testified to that fact.

However, once chained he was left no such chance.

When he started to strip Bobby off his clothes he could also feel the strong muscles in his legs. Still, Bobby was slightly unsteady on his feet, presumably due to the drug. This eased the task considerably.

He caught himself by surprise when he felt himself arouse. A positive side-effect. He had not stripped Bobby because of the sexual aspect but for to demoralize him. It had been his intention to make him feel helpless and vulnerable.

For just a moment he had watched the detective and admired the strong body. He had noticed several scars on his chest. _Must have been bullet wounds_, he had thought. Then he was attracted by the bared throat and could not help but touch it. The way Bobby flinched back excited him even more and before he even realized it he reached the climax and relieved himself.

A more difficult part was to get Bobby's hands in front of him. He had taken precautions and used two chains with cuffs at the ends to bind him. Still he could connect the links with padlocks if necessary. In the end it was easier than he had expected. So he tightened the chain and forced Bobby into this upright position

When he removed gag and blindfold he paid special attention to Bobby's eyes. Though reduced to shades of green by the night goggles he could still see the shock in his eyes when he opened them. His first thought must have been something about being possibly blinded.

He tried to talk with him but Bobby refused to answer… at least with words. His features told him a lot instead. Even though he turned his head in the direction of the voice, his eyes remained unsteady because he could not fix something. Nevertheless his features changed from surprise and anger over lack of understanding to misery and fear.

The latter was reinforced when he tried to give him some water. It really was amusing and he had to fight not to laugh.

Again he watched Bobby on the screen. So far nothing had changed.

_It's amazing that Bobby does not talk at all. I really expected him to just try and talk me into letting him go. He must sense that this is not going to happen… Or he is just cautious, waiting, analyzing his situation as he is always analyzing everything. But for the moment it has left him absolutely speechless._

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"This really is expressionless," Logan grumbled as he studied the picture that the sketch artist had drawn according to the description of the homeless man, who witnessed part of the abduction. "Could be anyone."

"Well, it's better than nothing," Barek replied and pinned the sketch to the board.

"Yeah, but every second or third man in New York can look like this. So we have about three million suspects."

"You can assume that there are more," Stabler threw in, "because this guy certainly is not from New York."

Barek turned to him. "What leads you to this opinion?"

"Honestly? I don't really know, but I have the feeling that this is not his first string of murders. Bobby said the same. When we assume that he is active for years we would have noticed him quite earlier."

"Brings us back to VICAP," Logan mumbled, frowning deeply. When they returned to the bullpen Barek already told him that they would continue with checking the database after their meeting.

"Yes, Logan, that brings us back to basic work," Stabler said. "I know it's annoying, but it might get us one or even a few steps further."

Logan glared at him but otherwise remained unimpressed.

"When we take the statement of our witness into consideration we also have to assume that Bobby followed someone voluntarily who then attacked him," Barek thought out loud.

"Bobby would not go with everyone," Eames contradicted. "Whoever it has been, he did not go with him voluntarily."

"Bobby wouldn't go with just anyone," Eames contradicted. "He didn't go with them voluntarily."

"There were no traces of any fight," Stabler said. "Bobby was seen going into the alley on the heels of another man. No one did force him, he just went there."

"We base this assumption on the shady testimony of this bum," Logan growled and caught a dirty look from his partner. "I know, I shouldn't judge, but I don't think that he is trustworthy."

"You're right, Logan," Stabler snapped. "You haven't spoken with him so you should keep your opinion to yourself."

Logan was about to reply properly but thought better of it when he looked into the steel blue eyes of his SVU colleague.

"You're right," he agreed lightly instead. "I could have ended on the streets as well if I would have been fired instead of being transferred to this benighted island."

"Yeah, Mike," Barek teased. "Hopefully you learned your lesson out of it."

"Funny," he growled.

"Okay, back to the case," Eames pushed. "I still can't believe that Bobby just went with him."

"You're right," Barek agreed. "Bobby has his issues with trust. And this specifically tells us something very important about the man we're searching for."

"And this would be…?" Logan queried.

"That he knew him," Eames puffed as realization struck. "I can hardly imagine that. Who should it be? I don't know anyone he knows, we know, who would do that to him."

"What about Nicole Wallace?" Logan suggested. "After all what I've heard about her, it might be possible."

"Yeah, except of the fact that she's in custody."

"Is she? Or did she make bail?"

Logan's question met silence. None of them knew for sure.

"We should find out. Maybe she's behind all of this."

"I don't think that Nicole is responsible for these killings," Barek thoughtfully said. "First of all Linda Montagnolo was found when Wallace already was in custody, but she also does not fit the profile. She's a psychopath, but she never displayed a sadistic streak like our suspect proves to have."

"I don't think that it's her, either," Eames said. "Her appearance is coincidental."

"I don't believe in coincidences," Logan growled.

"I don't believe it's her," Eames insisted. "She likes to torture Bobby, but she prefers to mess with his head. She wouldn't see any sense in kidnapping him."

"Well, you know her best… but maybe she changed her mind. Maybe mind games are not satisfying enough anymore. Maybe she decided that she wants to have him all for herself."

Eames shook her head. A sad look was in her eyes. The worry for her partner already wrote wrinkles in her forehead.

"I don't think that's what happened," she whispered. "Knowing he wanted to protect me…"

"Alex?" Barek softly pressed, when the detective fell silent. "What do you want to say?"

"If he saw anything suspicious," she explained. "He would have gone to check on it himself, alone, without waking me up."

Barek just slightly raised her eyebrows. She knew Eames was right. That was how Bobby would react.

"Yeah," Stabler threw in. "But I don't think that he would simply run into a trap. If something alerted him enough to leave the apartment he would have been on guard. He would not have followed the first that comes along, especially if he already was alerted."

"That's right," Eames confirmed, "but I would not exclude that he went with someone he took for someone trustworthy… like a cop."

"You think that the kidnapper pretended to be a cop?"

"A cop or… someone who claimed to be in trouble."

"Someone he met during the investigation?" Logan suggested.

"Possible," Eames replied. "He would not downright trust anyone he meets, but he tends to think that he's in control over people, that he can tell when a situation changes. Once he was in that alley it must have happened so fast that he had no opportunity to defend himself."

That made sense.

Everyone turned to Stabler. He was sitting deep in his chair, a nondescript expression on his face. When he felt the stares on him he scowled.

"Hey, what are you staring at?"

"How did he attack you exactly?" Barek asked in her low, calming witness-questioning voice.

For a moment Stabler was brooding, glaring at the others. "Actually I didn't notice anything. I saw the van, I saw some legs, I was hit, my weapon dropped, he hit me again… end of story." He blushed, if with anger or embarrassment no one could tell.

_Maybe it is a mixture of both_, Barek thought.

"And don't ask me if the shoes which I have seen really were Goren's. I'm not a shoe-expert," he grumbled.

Eames glared at Stabler. Even though she knew he stated a fact she could not deny that she was annoyed by the tone of his voice.

"Sorry, that I didn't mean for it to come out that way. It's just that… I was so close. If I wouldn't have gone up to your apartment…"

"There was no way for you to know," Eames appeased. "And if you'd have noticed what was going on when you arrived, the guy might have shot you without second thought."

"We might have been able to take him down together," Stabler replied bitterly. "I screwed up."

"He could have sent you to hospital or killed you at once, so stop talking so stupid. It's not your fault."

"I should have figured it out earlier. I would have reached you or him when I called. It would not have happened at all."

Obviously he was talking himself into a full blown guilt trip. Eames could not help but blame him, too. At the same time she blamed herself. She could have figured it out as well. She knew it was neither his nor her fault, but she felt this way nevertheless. It just hurt her so much to know that her partner was in the claws of a psychopath. They would have been able to prevent it if they would have known more about the actual threat. As hard as it was, they could even have accepted protective detail.

Eames wished she would have known earlier. Now that she had time to think about it, she was almost sure that Bobby had already known. He had not shared his thoughts because he was of the opinion that he was responsible and could handle it all on his own.

This is so typical of Bobby! As so often he takes the responsibility for everything and does not even think for a moment to share with me, to let me fulfil my part of the partnership. He can be so damned stupid from time to time!

_After all these years… why doesn't he let me in? I know he trusts me! So why does he always retreat when it comes to __sharing responsibility? It's always when it starts to become personal. What does that tell about our partnership?_

"It's all idle talk. We can't change what has happened," Barek declared. "What we have to do now is find him."

Everyone knew she was right. Now they had to put it into action.

xxx

**Forensic laboratories**

**1 Centre Street**

Back from the crime scene, the forensic technicians began to examine the collected evidence. Soon they gained first results.

"Roaches," Munroe swore and rose the attention of Bonasera.

"What have you got?" she asked curiously.

"This cup here – there was flunitrazepam into the coffee."

Bonasera frowned. "Belongs to the benzodiazepines and is related to diazepam," she reminded herself aloud. "It's a fast working sedative. In the US it's not licensed as medicament."

"Yeah," Munroe spat. "Trade-mark's Somnibel or Rohypnol. It's used as a party-drug as well as a rape-drug. You mix it with alcohol and the victims don't even remember what was done to them."

"I know," Bonasera said sadly. She remembered a certain investigation. Everyone in the lab had been relieved when they could finally nail the bastard who committed a long string of very brutal rapes.

"So, if you can't get it in the local drugstore or pharmacy you'll have to look on the streets," Munroe said. "I will ask Danny. I guess he knows someone who's with narcotics. Probably one of them will know someone who might have sold our guy the damned stuff."

"Okay. Would be great if we could offer a name."

"At least we can tell MCS some relatively positive news. Whoever drugged Detective Goren, he wanted to take him alive. And I think we can assume that he will be held prisoner somewhere."

_Yeah_, Bonasera thought. _But where? And how long will the kidnapper play his perverted game with him?_

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"We have news from the labs," Benson said, coming into the office and waving a thin folder.

"Something useful?" Eames asked.

"In the car the bum showed us?" she explained. "They found a coffee mug with residues of Rohypnol."

This statement stunned the detectives momentarily. Even if they had doubted the fact that Goren was abducted, it now was as good as proven.

"What else?" Barek finally asked when she noticed that no one else reacted.

"Saliva," Benson replied. "It's from a man, but they are still working on the DNA comparison. Except of that they got nothing out of the car, it was meticulously cleaned."

"What is it, Liv?" Stabler grumbled. He knew his partner inside out and could tell that there was something else. "C'mon, don't let yourself be squeezed for information."

Benson looked uneasy. She had not wanted to just drop the facts. "Fingerprints. They found prints on the mug which belong to Goren."

That was as good as a confirmation. When they now proved that the saliva also belonged to Goren they could tell for sure that he drank from the coffee.

_Coffee with Rohypnol_. Eames almost gasped. _He has been drugged!_

_So even if __Bobby still went into the alley voluntarily, he most likely was left no chance. The abduction must have been as meticulously planned as the car had been cleaned. Our suspect took no chances and found a way to sedate him for to take him down without a fight._ Eames felt her insides constrict painfully. Her heart ached for her partner. _Bobby! Where are you now? What the hell is he doing to you? Damn! I wish he would have taken me!_

"Why did he take Bobby?" she asked out of her train of thoughts. "We weren't even sure whether he was after me, so why should he take Bobby now?"

"We already speculated about the symbolism of the chess queen," Barek said and shot Mike a glance. "I could imagine that it did not refer to the next victim but to Bobby's position in the game. So maybe the queen was an expression for his threatened position, that he was about to get into zugzwang."

"Zugzwang?" Benson asked. "Is this a chess term?"

Barek nodded. "It's the German word for _compulsion to move_ and is frequently used in context with chess. Zugzwang means that one player is put at a disadvantage because he has to make a move — the player would like to pass and make no move. The fact that the player must make a move means that his position will be significantly weaker than the hypothetical one in which it is his opponent's turn to move. In combinatorial game theory, it means that it directly changes the outcome of the game from a win to a loss.

"How would you apply that to our situation?" Logan wanted to know.

"As we don't know the actual positions our perp is assuming for his game, I can only guess that he intended to get Bobby into zugzwang by threatening his queen," Barek explained, "in our case by threatening Alex."

"For to do what?" Stabler asked. "He could not simply assume that Bobby would just go with him. I can't imagine that he just would have to say, _if you don't come with me I'm going to take your partner instead _and Bobby would follow himI don't think that this would work."

Barek exchanged looks with Eames. It might appear to be against common sense, but actually this was how Bobby operated. This threat might be the one way to force Bobby's cooperation.

Stabler just needed one look at the two women to realize that he was right. Now a lump formed in his gut, too. He could see that the others felt the same.

"I still don't understand it," Eames murmured. "How did he get Bobby to drink this damned coffee?"

"Well, he won't have him forced by gunpoint," Barek said. For all their sakes she tried to remain calm and concentrated for to offer the others a constant they could focus on. Despite her own worries she managed it quite well. "I can't see him threatening Bobby with a weapon to make him drink."

"Actually that wouldn't work," Eames said. "He would negotiate or even fight in such a situation. The killer must have lured him in, made him feel secure."

"So we're back at the assumption that he knew the man who abducted him," Stabler threw in. "Someone he may not have trusted but did not suspect either, a person he would accept coffee from."

"We're talking in circles," Logan muttered. "I'd say that it's obvious that he knew the man."

"I agree with Mike," Eames said. "He must have known him at least by sight, or he would never have accepted something to drink from him." She heard how her voice started to shake. That was the last thing she wanted… the others to know how much it affected her that Bobby was missing.

_The others __are worried, too, but every one of us has their own ways to deal with the sudden loss. Damn! I can't think like that? Bobby's not lost. We will find him, goddamit!_

"What I still wanted to say earlier," Barek chimed in, "is that our suspect considers Bobby's position weaker because he is forced to make a move. So he directs the move and puts Bobby at a disadvantage. Running blind, Bobby had no way to know which move the killer was anticipating. He just acted and played right into the perp's hands."

"You really let it sound as if he's just playing chess," Logan grumbled.

"For him, it's just a game. We have to figure out what his game is if we have want to have any hope of finding Bobby"

"Do you think we should request the support of a psychiatrist?" Frowning deeply Logan pushed himself out of his chair. "Do you think we need a shrink?"

"I didn't say that, Mike."

"I don't see anything wrong with using a psychiatrist," Benson threw in. "Often Dr. Huang is of great help."

"We already have a profiler in our team," Eames said, nodding to Barek. "We won't need anyone else."

Captain Deakins appeared under the doorframe.

"Alex, could I have a word with you?"

"Yeah." She stood up and followed him out.

The others watched her go. For a minute they remained silent.

"What are the chances that Bobby is still alive?" Benson asked.

"Right now they are good," Barek answered her. "The perp wouldn't have made the effort to drug and abduct him if he just wanted to see him dead." She turned to look at the board. All these women, abducted, tortured, killed. "He will hold him captive until he grows tired of him. When that happens we will find him like this."

As she still was staring at the crime scene photos, everyone knew exactly what she meant. Their hopes were high, but they knew that they had to find something soon, if they really wanted to have a chance to find him alive.

xxx

When they entered his office Deakins closed the blinds to give them some privacy.

"Have a seat, Alex," he offered and sank in his big office chair. He eyed his detective carefully.

Eames sat down reluctantly.

"You look tired," Deakins remarked. "If there…"

"Yeah, I bet I do," she replied. "I was up half of the night and working since we noticed that Bobby went missing. So what do you expect me to look like?"

"I don't know what I expected," Deakins admitted. "I was just starting conversation. I wanted…"

"To see if I'm able to work?" she cut him off angrily. "I can't deny that I'm tired, but that is quite understandable given the situation. It's not the first time I have to work overnight and certainly not the last."

"Alex…"

"And don't Alex me, please, sir." She slumped against the backrest. "I'm capable to handle this, so please don't even think about taking the case from me."

Deakins sat back, too, and eyed his detective closely. Yes, she was tired, that was clearly visible. But she also radiated some kind of grim determination. Oh yes, she was capable, he did not doubt that.

"Please don't take me wrong, Detective," he said. "I do not doubt your professionalism, not in any way."

"Oh, thank you," she said sarcastically. "Did I give you reason to worry about that?"

"No, Detective, you didn't," Deakins replied. "And I don't want to give you a reason to think I don't trust you."

Now she just glowered at him. Where was this going?

"I just came back from seeing the Chief of Detectives, and I'm not in the mood to argue. I had to explain to him that I don't see any reason for to relieve you of the case. That's the reason why I assigned Stabler to be in lead together with you."

"So you think that I need a babysitter?"

"No, Detective," he tried to calm her, because she sounded more and more annoyed. "It was Reynolds who asked me to assign someone else to lead the case. I assured him that it won't be necessary. So relax." Watching her closely he continued, "I just want to make sure that you don't overshoot the mark. You're Bobby's partner and you care for each other, so this abduction hit very close to home. If you feel that you need a break, don't hesitate to lay the responsibility on Stabler's shoulders for a while. None of us will think less of you if you do."

"Well, it hit him very close, too," Eames snapped, referring to the attack.

"You know you can't compare the two," Deakins concluded. "He will deal with the attack and distance himself. I'm just asking you not to try to do everything yourself. Everyone is here to help, and it's not punishment."

Eames frowned deeply. She remembered the evening at the pool hall. She was not sure if she was comfortable with laying the case into Stabler's hands completely.

"I don't need special treatment," she complained. "I'm capable to do my job! You know I am! So why are you doing this?"

Deakins could not blame her. Goren was like a son for him, so he felt the same: grief, angst, and rage. Right now the latter was predominating. He was furious with the man who dared to put this up with them, who had killed at least seven women and who had now abducted his best detective. It was a white hot rage that burned inside of the captain and he thought cautiously about whatever to say not to take it out on someone else, especially not Eames.

"Sir?"

"Sorry, Detective," he said, "I was lost in thoughts."

For just a second Eames could see the captain's feelings flicker in his eyes and features, and she realized she was wrong. No, Deakins was backing her all the way. She would have his support and the last thing he would think about was to replace her. Now his words took on meaning: He defended her against the Chief of Detectives. Suddenly she felt grateful and embarrassed at the same time.

"No, sir, I have to be sorry. I did not mean to lash out at you."

"No offence taken, Alex. We're all under a lot of stress." _And it's going to get worse_, he thought. "I just want to make sure we take care of ourselves."

"I will, Captain."

"I'm sure of that, Alex. And if you want to talk, about anything, my door's always open for you."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that." She waited because she had the feeling that he was not finished yet.

"Can you think of anything you two talked about last night that could help us?" Deakins asked.

Eames frowned deeply. "I promise you, we'd already be working on it if I could think of anything. If nothing else, then you can believe me that," she grumbled.

"I know, Alex. Again, I didn't mean it that way. Just… if Bobby said anything at all, anything that didn't seem important…"

"Do you think that we really lost him?" Eames exploded and rose from her chair. "You sound as if he's already dead! That from you! You fought for him when they wanted to kick him out of MCS because he couldn't find a partner that would stick around! You went through hell with him when Croyden was killed! You stood your ground for us when Nicole Wallace showed up again! And now he's missing for barely 12 hours and you already want to quit on him?!"

Deakins let her rant. He knew he had chosen the wrong words the moment they left his mouth. He let her take her pain out on him. It was okay, at least for now.

"We don't know where he is at the moment and what this sadist is putting him through, but he's counting on us!" She sounded choked up now.

"I know, Alex," Deakins said lowly but determined. "And we're not going to disappoint him."

xxx

The following silence was awkward. They all were brooding for a while as they studied the pictures again.

"I'm going to inform Captain Deakins," Benson broke the silence when she saw Eames coming out of the commanding officer's office. She grabbed the file and went over to Deakins.

"So back to VICAP, Caro?" Logan asked, pushing himself up from his chair.

"Yes, we should keep up the search for similar MOs."

"Okay, then let's go," he said and went to the door.

"I'll be right with you," Barek called after him. She remained standing at the board, watching Stabler.

The SVU detective did not seem to notice anyone or anything around him. He was rubbing the back of his neck, lost in thought or ignoring his colleagues. Somehow he reminded Barek of Goren.

"You okay?" she asked. "Maybe you should follow the doctor's advice."

"It's nothing but a headache," he grumbled. "I'll be fine."

"He hit you hard. You should take care of yourself."

"I don't have time… we have a missing cop, abducted by a serial killer!"

Barek studied him closely. He looked a little lost. "You should talk with Alex," she suggested softly. She was tempted to put a hand on his shoulder but thought better of it.

Stabler looked up at her. "She'll be thrilled," he said sarcastically.

"You offended her partner. How do you want to work with her if you can't work that out?"

Stabler had no idea. Well, that must have been because Barek was right. He nodded at her and kept brooding as she left to join Logan digging through files.

xxx

**unknown location**

Left alone in total darkness, Goren was fighting against himself to regain his composure in some way.

Thoughts of the raped and murdered women flashed through his mind. Even as there was the definite difference of gender, he remembered Kirkpatrick telling him he had ended here as substitute for Alex. That led him to the conclusion that he was going to face a really hard time before he suffered some kind of slow and painful death.

His mouth was dry again. The water Kirkpatrick had given to him left him thirstier than he was before.

_All the years out on the streets with Narcotics,_ he thought. _Even undercover. The job was quite more dangerous back then as it is with MCS, the thinking cop's division. Of course, there had been moments I have been in danger to be shot or otherwise hurt by a suspect, too. Or Alex. Still, there always were the presence of our respective partner and other colleagues to rely on as well as our gear, like protective vests and helmets, if we were going to assault a suspect's hideout._

This time he was alone.

He was convinced that his colleagues would give anything they could to find him. But as there still hadn't been any clue to the possible identity of the killer they might just get stuck again with the further investigation.

_What did I tell Mike exactly when we were out on the stairs, _he wondered_. Will he draw the conclusion to scan our direct vicinity? Will he stumble over something Kirkpatrick said the days previous? Was there something this son of a bitch said that might have given him away? As a matter of fact, I didn't notice anything. And so didn't the others._

_And Alex? She will be furious by now and scared to death when she finally finds out what must have happened to me when I disappeared._

Though it hadn't been a lot of water Kirkpatrick had given him, it now found its way to bother him. He felt the predictable, natural urge to relieve himself.

He snorted and looked up to the chains around his wrists. Yet, it didn't matter where to look. The darkness was so complete it hurt his eyes. And the sole audible sound was the slapping and whistling of a ventilation system.

He made a few steps in place to unburden his legs. His arms and shoulders already hurt and felt numb at the same time.

_How much time may have passed? I don't think that it's already __noon._

He yawned and was surprised by it. Usually he did not sleep very much. Sleep. There would be no chance to get some today.

_I suppose that he will be back in the __evening. He will play a second round of his _game_. Then he'll probably drive back to Manhattan, to gloat over the pain he's giving Alex_.

He tried to ignore the natural necessity burning in his loins. There wouldn't be another possibility… Why not do it now?

Suddenly he had to cough which suspended him from his other worry effectively.

He grinned at the darkness. At the same time he felt that he flushed by the thought of Alex… Well, what else should he have done?

Once again he had to cough. It was echoed by the walls and faded away.

_Must be a big room_, he thought. _And high._

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The chains were clanking as he moved.

_Chains! And my own cuffs!_

These were the wrong thoughts. There it was again - the choking feeling of helplessness! It built up tight knots in his throat and stomach. Shudders waved through his body. He could not help the tears brimming his eyes. Fear crept down his spine and he choked back a sob.

tbc…

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. It would be great to hear from you. :) 


	14. Chapter 13

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hey, folks. Thanks for your reviews. And very special thanks to my new beta reader. I'm glad I've found you. :D

Now that he has crossed the border, there can be only one way to be pursued for the time being… down into darkness and despair. Well, if you don't get burnt, you can't rise out of the ashes. (This is a subtle warning for those who are easily scared – this story's rated M for a reason…)

Okay, even if it's a dangerous journey, please enjoy. :)

**13**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

When Eames left Deakins' office she was shaken. Stepping through the door, her view fell on the desk opposite of her own where Goren used to work at and she swallowed.

_God, Bobby, where are you?_

Her surroundings lost their clear contours. They somehow blurred before her eyes and she was swaying for a second.

She found her way to her desk and let herself drop into her office chair. Despair washed over her in cold waves and threatened to pull her into the deep ocean of depression.

One look at his vacated chair and she felt renewed fear clawing at her heart. Still she did not completely realize what had happened. It was right now when she stared at the empty chair that it really hit her and her world started to spin.

_Bobby!_ Her aching soul cried. _God, Bobby! No! I was supposed to be taken, not you! Poor Bobby. I wish he hadn't changed his plans. I wish, he'd taken me!_

A shudder washed over her as she realized what she just had thought. In her mind's eye pictures of the tortured and murdered women rose. She knew what they were up against. She knew that she had missed death by a hair's breadth. And now her partner had to face it in her place.

_Bobby! I can't believe it. You're in the claws of the killer we were pursuing! This monster who already killed seven women, who uses torture and mutilates his victims!_

_Why did he do that? He wanted to play with you, so why has he taken you? I need your help, Bobby. Please. I need you!_

_What?_

Her thoughts took a new direction.

The last day had been a constant up and down of emotions. After Goren went up with her to her apartment, she had prepared the couch in the living room for him while he ordered some Chinese for late dinner. Then they sat talking about the case until the food arrived. For a while they ate in silence. Eames could not get him focused on anything other than the case and she did not want to pursue this path during dinner. So she refused to answer him and he ceased to try.

She could only guess what was on his mind that night, but what was on her own scared her. It had nothing to do with the killer, though.

Eames thought about her partner. That day had shown her some well hidden place inside her heart, a place she had once known, but buried deeply after the death of Joe. She only saw it in dreams, when she was not aware of even thinking. It was a place built on pure instinct. Last time she had seen it, it was so long ago that she barely recognized it.

That moment, when he had been crying in her embrace, let it rise out of the ashes of her grieving heart like the mystical Phoenix. It rose high and swept over her unprepared. The tide carried her away into the deep ocean of her emotions and drowned her in an almost forgotten feeling. Now that she thought about it she knew that she had denied it for most of their partnership.

_I'm in love with Bobby_, she thought. _I love him!_

A single tear trickled down her cheek, closely followed by another. Slowly small streams started to run over her face. She cried silently, unaware of the presence of her co-workers.

"Alex?" Barek startled her out of her thoughts, smiling sadly when Eames looked up. "If I can do something for you…"

"Thanks, Carolyn." She sniffed. "I just realized that he… rea… really is… gone."

She could not contain her grief anymore. Tears were rolling freely now and she wrapped her arms around Barek's middle, sobbing into her clothes.

Barek let her weep for a moment. Nobody seemed to notice, they all kept their heads down. She could understand what was going through Eames' mind. Barek also felt grief. Sure, she did not know Goren as well as Eames, but nevertheless she felt an utter hurt due to the sudden loss of their colleague.

"We will find him," she murmured. "Man, this guy made his first mistake… and it will break his neck."

"What mistake? What do you mean?" Eames looked up at her suspiciously. "I can't see a mistake he made that might lead us to him."

"He made the worst mistake he could make," Barek explained, her tone becoming stern and strong, her expression grim.

"And what would that be?" Eames looked her colleague deep into the dark brown eyes, searching for the proverbial straw to hold on to.

Barek forced herself to grin grimly.

"He thought he would feel challenged by messing with Bobby, messing with his mind?" She snorted. "Landing a terminal blow by taking you? With that he might have been right, but now he made the mistake that doomed him."

Still Alex just stared at her, her expression changing to curiosity and anger now.

"He royally pissed you off, Alex," Barek said with determination. "He pissed you off, so God help him, because no one else will."

These words touched something deep down inside of Eames and renewed fire lit up in her eyes.

"You're right," she said. "I am pissed! This scum should be grateful if I just kill him!"

xxx

**unknown location**

Suspended in darkness Goren lost his sense of time. Minutes might as well be hours and the other way round. He guessed that it might be afternoon, but he was not sure of that at all.

After all he managed to soothe his nerves. Still there was a tight knot in his stomach but it did not hurt with this consuming burning sensation it started with. Moreover the drugs still caused him moments of nausea. When his head was spinning he also got difficulties in remaining standing.

Though he never slept more than four to five hours per night he now was tired. Not only because he was awake since the previous morning but also because he was forced to keep this upright position. The only way to ease the gnawing pain in his legs was to walk on spot or to shift his weight from time to time.

Each time he moved the chains rattled. And each time he heard them rattle it gave him the creeps.

He did not know why. His situation did not change by the sounds. But somehow the rattles made the chains more substantial than the cold metal on his skin.

The damned shackles and cuffs did their best to take more from him than just his ability to move – his freedom, his dignity and his pride. He fought against their psychological assault, not to let them undermine his strength.

As he stared into the complete blackness his mind turned to the people he had been taken from. Somehow he fell out of the world, was spirited away and suspended in this dark place, floating on tides of pain and despair.

He wondered what they would do without him. Yes, he was gone and they would not rest until they found him, dead or alive. But they could not pursue this 24/7. That was impossible and even if he knew that at least Alex would not give up on him, he also knew that life would go on, too. Even if she was working overtime now, some kind of routine would form. She would become accustomed to the situation and finally she would accept that he was gone. A long time would pass until that happened and he, he suspected, would be dead by then.

A shudder washed over him.

Hope he tried to banish from his mind right now. He would not give it up, but he knew that he would have to take care of his survival on his own for the time being. The killer had left them not a single clue so that it was unlikely that he would be found soon. He had to take care of himself.

His legs seemed to weigh a ton right now. They felt as if they were blown up. And his back already killed him. As it came to his arms, he hardly felt them anymore, just the pain in his shoulders when he tried to find a new position.

He tried to hold on to memories and the image of his smiling partner rose in his mind's eye. It was so easy to imagine her. Next he saw also Deakins, Barek and Logan, the latter with one of his typical sly grins.

Suddenly it struck him. _My mom! Who will tell my mom? Who will take care of her when I'm gone?_

As his mind recalled the people close to and around him, a new face popped up, a face with haunting blue eyes and a broad mischievous grin.

_Even if Alex takes the lead now, Elliot certainly will join her. Deakins will put him into this position to keep the brass off of her back._

_That would be a good decision,_ he thought. _Elliot is a good cop. His solve rate is almost as high as our own. But he is so high tempered and kind of opinionated. I suspected that we would have problems getting along with each other from the start. Something else added to the tension and made him lash out. Something that made it even more difficult to reach the reasonable mind of the quite emotional man who reacted true to his temper._

_He may have felt threatened or pushed by something! My reputation and the way I'm actually working, offered him the perfect excuse to take it out on me._

A sudden rush of amusement left him almost crying instead.

_If it wouldn't have been for these attacks, we might have found a way to connect,_ he thought. _But after the reactions he has shown, this is even more difficult. I could have imagined to becoming friends with him. Actually he seems to be quite interesting. During the pool game he proved to have some good natured but also evil humor._

He grinned at the darkness at the memory.

_But I'd say that he destroyed every chance to build a true friendship between us. He's not hard- but hotheaded. At least he was willing to get to know my way to work at last. He started to see me with other eyes._

_Not that that mattered anymore. Most likely it wouldn't have changed anything. I already was keeping distance again. A chance not taken._

_Alex tried to open me up towards them and just when I thought it might work out, it all went wrong._

_Well, no matter what I think now about it, there won't be another chance._

To banish these morbid thoughts from his mind, he tried to imagine Alex' picture again.

_She certainly is royally pissed. She's pissed with the perp, she's pissed with Elliot, with the whole wide world! And she'll be good at it._

_Poor Alex._

His thoughts went back to the previous night.

_My Alex._ Once more he chuckled. _Since when do I think about her as _my_ Alex? Since yesterday? No, certainly not._

He remembered the sensation of her arms wrapped around his body, when she comforted him after the profile going so wrong. It felt so good. Yet he knew that he could not let himself be fooled.

That evening, when he sat on her sofa, eating Chinese and watching her furtively, there had been everything on his mind but the case. Actually everything about her… he just talked about the case because they needed to… and to keep himself from acting out his thoughts.

It was not only inappropriate, he also was sure that she never would answer his feelings.

_We are friends, just best friends, and I never ever would risk losing that. Especially as the alternative are no friends at all… well, except for Lewis maybe._

_What good does it do to think about them? Right now they can't help me. I'm so desperately alone!_

He just could try to find a position that did hurt the least and stare into darkness or keep his eyes shut. Except of that there was nothing he could do.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Stabler sat alone in the office and was brooding. It was hard to concentrate on the file that lay in his lap. He stared at the photo of Lindsay Davenport and choked.

_Damn! This scum has Bobby!_

He shuddered.

_He won't let him off as easy as the girls. Even if he might have intended to take Alex first, he planned the abduction meticulously… as he planned everything._

_This guy's good. Too good._

And the idea that this guy had Bobby left him feeling guilty

_I have been horrible to him. God, please…_

His grin was a bitter one. He knew that nothing he could confess to a priest and no _Ave Maria_ would make this feeling vanish. And it wouldn't help Bobby either.

_We have to help Bobby… I have to help him. I have to try to make up for my mistakes._

Rubbing his forehead he tried to relieve his headache. He had one hell of a headache, and it was not due to the blow he'd taken.

_I was pissed because Cragen made us hand over our cases, 'cause we should work with Major Case, and I took it out on Bobby. I took his quirkiness as an excuse for my bad and stupid behavior and ran him down._

_After all I've heard about him and expected of him, he hardly reacted and let the storm pass. Hell, he even deflected the situation! With the pool game he offered me the perfect opportunity to end our cock fight… he didn't need to do that. He had every right to be mad at me, but instead he still tried to help._

_That was so unlike of him, at least of how I expected him to be, that I didn't know what to make out of it._ Another bitter laugh escaped him. _I'm an idiot, the idiot of the week… at least…_

Barek's advice was good. He just could not figure out how he should talk with Alex Eames.

_She certainly is mad at me. I would be mad if someone would attack Olivia. I disrespected her partner while she tried to get us to connect._

His view was drawn by the board again. Looking at the crime scene photos almost made his stomach turn.

_We only have vague ideas of what this guy is really doing with the women he's holding captive,_ he thought. _He was playing with them as he played with Bobby. And now he has abducted Bobby… he's holding him somewhere. God!_

He forced his mind to concentrate just on the case. Seeing the crime scene photos not only when he stared at them, but also in his mind, he felt haunted by them.

_Serves me right,_ he thought. _I let Bobby down, so it serves me right to be haunted._

Once more he rubbed his throbbing head. Something bothered him.

_I should talk with Barek about it._

So he got up and went into the bullpen. He found Barek leaning against Eames' desk and approached the two women.

"Barek? Can we talk for a moment?" he asked.

"Sure." She shifted her position to face him.

"Um, maybe a bit more privately?" he nodded to the conference room. He did not want to discuss his half-baked theory in front of Eames.

"You can talk here, Stabler," Eames snapped. "We're leading the case together, so whatever you have to say, say it!"

xxx

Responsibility lay heavy on Captain James Deakins' shoulders.

_Damn! I__'ve know Bobby for years! I should have noticed that something was wrong!_

He leaned back in his office chair, allowing himself a minute for himself. Staring at the opposite wall he just saw what was in his mind's eye.

_Am I really this hardheaded?_ he wondered. _I was so intent on getting them on the case that I forgot to look out for my detectives._

_I remember the first meeting with him! _

He laughed a bitter laugh.

_Cornwell from Narcotics warned me, said that this guy'd be a troublemaker… but would be one hell of a detective. I saw his solve rate and thought, troublemaker? With a one hundred percent conviction rate? I'll take my chances._

_Then I met him and was surprised. He didn't make the impression of a troublemaker. Actually that was what I thought about Logan from the start._

_And then Bobby started to work here. This time was rough, really rough. No one could deny that he did a great job… but he went through nine partners before I could find Alex. It was the last attempt._

_No one can imagine the relief I felt when they finally decided to remain partners. It was not a decision Alex made easily._

Still he could feel the slight fear he had experienced when she gave him her letter of request for a new partner. _Not again,_ he had thought. _No, not this one. We need her!_

It was an intense talk he had with her, and she gave the partnership a second chance. And then she stayed. With interest Deakins had watched their friendship grow and deepen... up to the point where he was convinced that it had become more than just friendship. But then again his suspicions never were confirmed.

He was startled out of his memories by the sounds of a beginning fight. With the blinds still closed he could not look into the squad room. So he got up and rushed to the door.

xxx

**unknown location**

There was no reason to stare into the total black. So he closed his eyes. He rested his head against his upper arm and concentrated on the face of the one person who promised comfort and security.

He could see her sitting at her desk. With her left she pushed a lock of her blond hair behind her ear. She concentrated on her work, filled out a form and attached it to a file. He could hear her voice when she looked up to ask him something about the current case. He could almost smell the coffee she had put…

The thud of the heavy door startled him out of his dreams.

_Better anyway,_ he thought. _Coffee is one of the bad words right now_.

He could hear Kirkpatrick turning the key. The man put something down and another item up. Steps approached.

"Had a good day?" Kirkpatrick asked, a grin audible in his voice.

Goren felt the touch of Kirkpatrick's hand at his side. As an immediate reaction his body stiffened up and his breath accelerated.

Kirkpatrick laughed. "So sensitive? What will you do when I start to hurt you?"

With his index finger he slowly followed the line of Goren's spine up to his neck. The detective did not move and his breath was low and even again. Kirkpatrick put his palm on Goren's forehead and bent his head back.

"Close your eyes," he ordered. "C'mon. Close 'em."

_There's no reason to offer resistance_, Goren thought. Yet, everything inside of him struggled against the order. As the grip tightened he complied with it, nevertheless. He felt fabric over his eyes. Once more he was blindfolded.

"I thought it was dark enough down here", he said.

"Trying to be funny?" Kirkpatrick slapped his shoulder. "The fact is, that these goggles are heavy. I'll turn the lights on."

"And…?"

"I don't want to spoil the surprises."

Goren heard the splashing of water just a second before the cold liquid hit his back. He clenched his teeth and forced himself not to react.

"I have to clean up the mess you made. It's an insult to my nose," Kirkpatrick laughed and directed the jet to the ground to wash away the urine. After that he went to Goren with a bottle.

"Here, Bobby, drink." He grabbed his chin, his voice oozing with sarcasm when he spoke. "I don't know why you make such a fuss by refusing. To make this clear once and for all: _I'_m in charge here. _I_ say how you live and die... and to die of thirst would be too easy for you. You will _not_ die of thirst before I'm through with you. You will like what I'm going to do to you… _much_ better."

_I seriously doubt that I will like anything you'll do to me…_

Kirkpatrick gently caressed Goren's throat and let his hand rest on the other man's chest to feel the constant breathing.

_This for example._ He could hardly suppress his shudders under the light touch. Even this small effort set his muscles on fire again.

"I'm really surprised that you're so quiet. What have I done to leave you so speechless?"

"I cannot see the point in arguing with you," Goren replied.

"Oh, you can still talk! Can't believe it!"

Goren snorted. Kirkpatrick's laughter sounded vicious.

"What about your favorite game, Bobby? Tit for tat? Will you play it with me?"

Obviously Goren hesitated a second too long. A hard punch hit him into the stomach that made him gasp and drove tears to his eyes. Reflexively his body wanted to writhe which was impossible due to the chains.

"You wanted to tell me something?" Kirkpatrick snapped. "C'mon. No need to be shy. Will you play with me?"

"Yeah," Goren pressed through gritted teeth.

"Good. Then I'll begin. Okay… How do you feel?"

He needed just a split second to answer that. "Tired."

"Tired?" Kirkpatrick mouthed. "Are you serious?"

"Haven't slept at all last night. – As you already know. – Yeah, I'm tired. Now it's my turn."

"You haven't answered my question."

"Yes, I have."

"You cannot seriously mean that you're just tired. Don't you hurt?"

"That's your second question. But first you answer mine. – You're not Leland Kirkpatrick, so who are you?"

"You want to know my real name? You mean the one I got from the woman who gave birth to me? I forgot. Never got to know her."

"Your answer is as satisfying as mine. You must have another name."

"You can call me Leland if you like. But that's not my real name. I honestly forgot. I often was in foster-care. They called me all kinds of names – asshole, little bastard, rat… I prefer to use the names of the guys whose identity I adopt."

_So, I should pity you now, or what? _"Yeah, standing a whole day upright with the arms stretched over the head does hurt. Leland Kirkpatrick is dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. I killed him. Oh, no, that's wrong… I slaughtered him." Kirkpatrick laughed wickedly. "It must have hurt very much but not for long - it was a quick death." He paused for some seconds for tension. "Something that won't be granted to you." – "I'll answer you another question, even though you didn't ask. No, I won't bury you somewhere in the woods like the poor little Leland. You may have your funeral. Though there won't be such a difference, hm? Your mum will hardly miss you, won't she? I guess two or three of your colleagues will be all who will attend it."

"You filthy son of…" Goren muttered.

"Hey!" Kirkpatrick shouted. "Watch your mouth, Bobby. You're not in any position to swear. – By the way… Can you tell me why I arrange the bodies the way I do?"

Just for an instant Goren hesitated. "You make them look innocent," he said. "The women were at your mercy and you wanted us to know."

"Yeah… You do know now, don't you?"

"You're playing this wrong. You skip my questions. – These were not your first murders, right?"

"No, they were not. Don't tell me you had to make an effort to figure this out."

Goren grinned wryly and shook his head.

"Okay" Kirkpatrick considered. "It's my turn. Do you love her?"

"What?"

"That's not a difficult question. Do you love her?"

"Who?"

"Now you really disappoint me. Alex Eames, pal. Do you love your partner?" He watched the detective closely. "I'm just curious. You told Mike you'd give your life for hers. That has to mean that you love her."

"We have a very good partnership."

"That's not what I meant." He stepped closer. The words were barely audible. "I didn't ask if you're in love with her but if you love her. C'mon. Be honest with me. You must have strong and deep feelings for her to take this upon you to save her." Now he was so close that Goren could feel his breath on his shoulder.

Goren swallowed. "Bastard," he murmured and earned another punch in the belly.

"Answer me!"

Instead Goren nodded, still gasping for breath.

"I want to hear it. Tell me if you love her."

"Yeah, I love her," he snapped. "Are you satisfied now you filthy son of a bitch?"

Once more Kirkpatrick grabbed Goren's chin. "You really should watch your mouth, Bobby. Don't annoy me. You really don't want me to be annoyed with you. So if you don't have anything to contribute to our conversation with something smarter than swearwords you should keep your mouth shut."

"It's not my fault that you are such a sorry pile…"

He could not finish his sentence because a fist closed around his throat and throttled him. Soon Goren saw stars blinking in all kinds of colors. When Kirkpatrick finally let go, he was gasping for breath heavily and coughing as well. He heard him move and rummage around.

"Don't tell me I didn't warn you," Kirkpatrick barked. He seized Goren's neck with one hand, and pushed the ball gag he had used before into his mouth, only to secure it with the attached straps so that it almost choked the detective again.

"Your own fault," Kirkpatrick said. "You want to be rebellious? Then I have to punish you into surrendering."

_That's exactly what you want, you asshole_, Goren thought bitterly. He felt Kirkpatrick touch his legs. A new pair of shackles closed around his ankles. He knew that it was the man's aim to make him resist and that he shouldn't offer him this satisfaction. But he couldn't bring himself not to react at all. And he was convinced that Kirkpatrick knew this as well - and was counting on it.

"You didn't ask me if this is the place where I killed the women," Kirkpatrick whispered into Goren's ear. "Yes, it is. At least four of them died here. You'd like to talk about Lindsay?"

_Lindsay. The sixth victim. The one found at the construction site. The one he has mutilated. _The prospect to hear about Lindsay sent him chills down his back.

"You could at least nod or shake your head," Kirkpatrick suggested, sarcasm dripping from his lips. "I'll tell you anyway. I misjudged her. She was a coward." He shook his head in disgust. "She was crying, whimpering and pleading. She wanted to be pampered! I'm not the kind of man who likes to pamper someone. It wasn't even fun to rape her. I was bored. You have to know… My threshold of boredom is not very high. You don't want me to be bored, do you?" He watched the detective slightly shake his head and laughed. "No, you don't. So next time think twice before you answer. Okay?"

Goren heard him withdraw but was far from feeling relieved. He did not know what to expect and was careful not to assume that Kirkpatrick was already finished. Even blindfolded he could tell that the lights went out.

"I was glad to hear that I haven't left DNA traces with Lindsay", Kirkpatrick went on. "I didn't want to make the same mistake twice."

This confession electrified Goren. If Kirkpatrick had left genetic evidence in another string of murders it might be possible to finally identify him. The question was _if_ and _when_ the two cases might be connected.

"Must be frightening being alone in the darkness," Kirkpatrick said. "So I decided to show you at least some of your surroundings."

The blindfold was removed. Goren frowned. It would be as dark as before. What was he supposed to see?

"Come on, Bobby. Open your eyes." Kirkpatrick closed in on him, cupped his cheeks with both hands. "Don't be scared. I just want to see your big brown deer's eyes before I go."

Goren wriggled his head free before he followed the order. The first thing he saw were the shackles glowing yellowish around his wrists. His heart rate skyrocketed and his breathing accelerated as irrational panic overcame him.

The chain which held the shackles vanished into the darkness. It looked as if it was fastened to nothingness and his inability to determine an anchor point shook Goren's sense of balance again. It made him sway and sick to his stomach.

He faught the feeling, knowing that there was nothing to fear from the fluorescent chains which were glowing yellowish in the dark, but subconsciously his survival instinct kicked in and adrenalin shot into his system. With the ball gag in his mouth he could not breathe sufficiently which added to his other problems.

Out of the corners of his eyes he could see all kinds of chains and shackles all across the room. He looked straight ahead where he guessed that Kirkpatrick was standing and saw a shadow move in front of the glowing cuffs. Even the floor was peppered with bonds.

With the chains being the only things he could see, he felt as if he was floating in space, unable to tell where the ground was. His feet told him clearly that it was right underneath him, but as it was totally black, he could not determine his position and this made him feel queasy.

"I don't believe you ever had an opportunity to meet the girls before they met me", Kirkpatrick said. "Well, I guessed that you might feel lonely and asked them to accompany you."

It gave Goren an unexpected jolt when suddenly moans filled the space between him and the threatening bonds. A woman screamed in terror.

Strangely enough this scream catapulted him back into reality. Anger rose hot and sore and longed for a way to express itself by more than heavy breathing. He heard his captor approach. Then he felt a hand painfully grab his chin.

Kirkpatrick laughed out loud as he saw the rage in Goren's eyes.

"Thanks, Bobby. This will make my day until I come back. I guess you will get along well with the girls. See you later."

He made sure that he closed the door with an extra distinctive thud.

tbc…


	15. Chapter 14

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hey, folks. Thanks for your reviews. They are helpful and inspiring. :)

Thanks to _Bammi1_ and _Confused One_ as well as _Infinity_ _Star_ for their help and advise. :)

**14**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"You're an insensitive asshole and a chauvinistic pig!"

Deakins heard Eames yell as he opened his office door and stepped out. Next he saw Stabler's startled expression change to rage. The vein in his neck began to pulse and he clenched and unclenched his hands to keep his temper in check.

_I have to nip that in the bud_, Deakins thought.

"Eames! Stabler!" he shouted. "In my office!"

Without waiting for the detectives' reaction the captain turned on his heels and was back at his desk in seconds. He dropped heavily into the leather. _I hate that_, he grumbled inwardly. _I really hate it._

"You arrogant bastard," Eames ranted as she followed Stabler inside. "How can you dare to…"

"Eames!" Deakins called her in his best commanding voice. "Would you please…" he gestured towards the door.

Frowning deeply she gave the door a push and it fell into its lock.

Now it was Deakins' turn to frown.

"Please take a seat." Nothing happened, none of them moved. Eames had her hands on her hips, her chin defiantly raised, while Stabler glowered at her.

"Sit down!" Deakins ordered and finally got what he wanted. "Explain yourselves."

Silence met his question. Both the detectives glanced at each other and he did not miss the fury in Eames' stare.

"He wanted to exclude me!" she declared in an accusing tone that Deakins did not like a bit. "Too biased against my partner to even talk with _me_!"

"That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard," Stabler snapped. "And it's not true!"

"Oh, yes, it is!" Eames snarled. "You ran him down from the start! And I was so stupid… I tried to convince him that you're okay, that it wouldn't hurt to open up a little. I should have given _you_ a lecture! Bobby's nothing like how the rumors picture him. It's unfair to judge without proper knowledge and I should've protected him!"

"You finished?" Stabler grumbled.

"I'm just about to start!" she roared. "How do you want to conduct this investigation without the slightest understanding of Bobby! And without the least bit of trust in me? You wanted to talk with Barek instead of me, for God's sake!"

All he could do was stare at her raging glory. During her outbreak she rose to her feet again, towering over him.

"Now Bobby's gone! Where the hell is my partner? How could you let this happen? How could you!"

This struck hard. Now he jumped to his feet, too.

"Let this happen?!" he roared. "How I could let this happen? You know, if there'd been anything I could have done, I'd have done it! I regret what I said and I regret that I took out my bad mood on him! If I could change what has happened, I'd do it, even if it would mean to be in his place, I'd do it! So don't accuse me of just standing by and doing nothing!"

"Words aren't good enough! You could have saved him!"

"Maybe I could have…! Maybe I'd have gotten shot! I don't know!"

"You can't even talk with me!" her voice broke now. She started with another tirade but…

_Enough is enough._ Slamming his fist onto the desk Deakins yelled, "Stop! Stop this right now!"

Both of them froze and stared at the captain who was, by then, crimson red with anger… which was quite unusual for Jim Deakins.

"If you can't solve this amicably you're going home, both of you."

"What?" Eames could not believe it. "Why would you…"

"Because this is not about us," Deakins cut her off, before she could talk herself into more trouble. "This is about a missing officer. And if you can't work this out, I'll have to assign detectives who can."

"A missing officer?" Eames exploded. "This is my partner we're talking about. It's Bobby! He's abducted and you… you…"

She could call herself lucky that she lacked words for once.

"Sit down!" Deakins commanded. "Sit… down…" he emphasized when they still did not react.

Stabler had already fallen silent. He had not started the argument and he did not intend to be kicked out of the investigation. Okay, to be honest, he had a hard time curbing his temper, but he never had meant to hurt Eames. He dropped back into his chair and Eames now did the same.

Finally having their attention, Deakins thought carefully about what he wanted to say next. One thought made his skin crawl: He regretted his threat. _Why did I say it that way? Hell, this is already pushing us to the end of our ropes. How are we supposed to handle all of this?_ He had to ground them all before they steered into the real rough waters. From now on the case would most likely become worse.

"I didn't mean to be so harsh. I didn't mean to take you off the case. I'd have sent you home for the night. We'll need all our resources to get this case solved." He saw Eames' indignation. "We have to keep cool… for Bobby's sake."

Eames glowered at him but remained silent. So he turned to Stabler.

"So, what have you done?"

Stabler thought hard about his answer. He did not want to say the wrong thing again.

"I pissed her off," he finally said. "I didn't mean to, but I did."

"That's an understatement," Eames grumbled.

"I was just about to ask for Barek's help with the profile when you exploded."

"And certainly you can see why," she snapped.

Stabler had the decency to blush. Yeah, he had just realized it too late… He still felt it more than he really understood, but he knew he had been in the wrong. Most of his problems came from trying to understand Goren. He hesitated to talk about him… that's why he had wanted to talk with Barek… to figure out what was on his mind before he confronted Eames.

"I chose the wrong approach," he said. "I wanted to talk with her about the motives of the killer and aspects of his MO, but should have been talking about the victimology of this case."

Eames glowered at him. He had not chosen the right words but she could see where he was coming from.

"I know it's nothing more than words, but I apologize. I didn't mean to get it out this way."

"You're an ass!"

Deakins cleared his throat, but Stabler held Eames' furious gaze.

"Yes, I was. Don't let us fight over it. Let's start again and find him."

"What did you want to talk with Barek about?" Eames asked.

"Aspects of the MO. I wanted her opinion as profiler, not waste precious time with theories."

"And that you could not ask her in front of me?" Eames' suspicion returned, even more as Stabler started to grin sheepishly. "What?! What is it?!"

"I didn't want to annoy you," he said.

"Well, you did."

"I noticed."

"Idiot!"

Stabler grimaced but did not reply.

"Can we talk about the case now?" Deakins wanted to know. The animosity between the detectives seemed to settle.

"Yes, of course," Eames grumbled. "If Stabler's ready to talk…"

The SVU detective squinted at her but remained silent.

"Okay," Deakins decided. "Let's start."

He took his phone and asked Barek to accompany them.

xxx

Logan was brooding over files. They were all VICAP results, linking one way or another to the current case. One time the posture of the victim was alike, next time the mutilation, another showed similar ligature marks.

He sighed. So far he had not found a case that might be directly connected to the perp they were pursuing. The stack of printouts grew higher and higher, almost burying his desk. When he looked at the second pile, the cases he already checked, his heart sank. Even if he would skip breaks and a night's sleep, he would be sitting till next evening to have at least a glance over these files.

Looking at the captain's office he raised one eyebrow. Since his partner had vanished in there, he had hardly been able to read. His thoughts were chasing each other… one more unpleasant as the other.

_Now that Bobby's gone, they turned to Barek,_ he thought. _As if they just remembered that she's a profiler._

The next second he berated himself. _That was not fair… not fair and maybe a prophecy of doom. We don't know what exactly happened to Bobby and as long as we don't have proof of his death, he's missing._

The printouts right in front of him were as encouraging as the crime scene photos on the board in the task room. They all showed different types of the same kind: serial killers. Now there was an especially sadistic one on the loose and if he really got their colleague… Logan did not want to think about it.

Before they met, he had not even heard of the quirky detective, but when they worked together to catch some corrupt, abusive prison guards, he got to know his unconventional investigation methods. When Goren talked them out of a dangerous confrontation with the suspects, he gained Logan's respect. Logan would never claim that he understood Goren, but he knew that he could trust him. Even if they butted heads on a regular basis he was prepared to stand up for him at any time.

This seemed to be a lost case already. He did not want to think that way, but as he took in the heap of dead end leads and lack of forensic evidence, he could not help but think that they actually lost their colleague to the monster they were pursuing.

When the other three detectives passed his desk Logan looked up.

"C'mon, partner!" Barek addressed him. "We all need to talk again…"

So he got up and followed them back into the conference room Benson and Stabler were using.

"So what were you discussing?" Logan asked as he closed the door behind himself.

"Theories about the murderers profile as well as the victimology," Barek explained.

"And…?"

His partner stood next to the board, just like Goren had done, studying the information. She knew that right now their chances were slim. They had to find something soon or they had to accept the harsh truth.

"Could you please repeat what you said about this three… what was that thing again?" Stabler asked.

"The three Ds of sadism?" Barek mused. "Dread, dependency and degradation."

"I remember that Huang was talking about this when we were on another case. Could you explain that further? Don't take me wrong, I know what it means, but how do you apply it to our case, to our suspect?"

Just for a short moment Barek thought about that.

"A sadist is amused by, or takes pleasure in, the psychological or physical suffering of others."

"As if we wouldn't know that," Logan grumbled.

Barek fired a look at him that made him flinch.

"He gets other people to do what he wants by frightening them and is fascinated by violence, weapons, injury, or torture. So sadists enjoy inflicting pain; it may or may not be sexual in nature."

_Sexual in nature!_ Eames shuddered. Their perp already had proven that he loved to torture his victims. And he had raped at least two of the women, most likely more. She did not want to hear definitions. She wanted to know how to find the man who held her partner captive!

"How does that help us?"

"Tells us something about his actions. We have to dig deeper to find out about his procedures. When we can find out why and how he approaches his targets we have a chance to get him."

"Okay, tell us more," Stabler encouraged her.

"Dread. Constant uncertainty is supposed to raise constant fear. It'll be the suspense created by not knowing what will happen next. Dependency. Bobby is completely dependent on this man, considering water, food, whatever he needs to survive. Degradation. I guess I don't have to point out that it will give him extraordinary satisfaction if he can degrade a cop like Bobby."

"No," Logan grumbled. "But what exactly are we talking about? What might this guy do?"

"I can only guess. All we have to know is that we have to find him as fast as possible."

"Because he will torture him," Eames mumbled.

"Yes, we have to assume that. Both, physically and emotionally."

They all knew it. But so far no one had actually mentioned that this was going to happen. The only thing they did not know was when it would happen… or if it already happened.

"Mike?" Barek addressed him cautiously. "What did you say about your conversation with Bobby again?"

For a second Logan did not know what she was talking about. "You mean about Alex?" he tried to specify and she nodded. "He said, he'd give his life for her."

Silence followed this statement. Each of them was lost in her or his own thoughts.

"Well, that's what he actually did," Eames finally said.

"I guess we can assume that the perp knows that you two are close to each other," Barek stated. "He already implied that in his message with the chess queen. We just interpreted it wrong."

Eames steeled herself. "We can also assume that Bobby will give him a very hard time. Once his first shock wears off, he will challenge his captor, too. So far he talked everyone out of everything. He will trust this ability to talk him down as well as try to escape him." For a moment she was thinking. "And he'll wait for me to come to him," she added softly.

Barek glanced at Logan. Stabler hid his view by studying a file. He did not intend to make another mistake. Almost a minute passed without someone saying a single word. Then Stabler made up his mind.

"Hey, I just thought..." he started. "Is there some way we can check out Bobby's last moves, see if we can find any proof of this guy following him. I mean, he must have spied him out, dug in his past and so on."

"We have to do that," Barek confirmed as she took in Eames' skeptical expression. "You know that."

"Yeah, I know," Eames conceded. "We did it with everyone else, now we have to do it with Bobby." She swallowed. "He told me that he didn't notice anything strange, and that scares me. If this guy really was able to spy him out unnoticed…"

In this moment Benson came in.

"We identified the Chrysler," she said. "It was stolen, six days ago, in Brooklyn. Aside from that CSU called. Taylor gave me two names of dealers who could have sold this Rohypnol."

"Okay! Who'll take the dealers?" Eames asked.

"Maybe we could," Benson replied with a quick look at her partner.

"Then off you go," Eames almost shooed them out. "Give me what you have about this Chrysler."

Benson handed her the thin file, then she left again, with Stabler in her wake.

"And we'll look if we can't find a hint in these VICAP files. What do we have this database for, when we can't find a hint on our guy!"

Logan rolled his eyes but followed her to their desks.

Undecided for a moment Eames stood in the now empty office. She turned and looked at the crime scene photos.

"Oh, Bobby," she breathed. "Please hang in there. I'll be as fast as I can."

She hoped and prayed that he would, despite her faith in him, not just give up. From experience she knew that he became as easily depressed as he got into high spirits, even a fever, when he was on someone's trail.

One last sigh and she went to talk with the owner of the stolen Chrysler.

xxx

**unknown location**

In the course of time the yellowish glow faded away and the recordings of the women's voices ended.

Secretly Goren was glad. The screams testified to terror and pain. The sounds of sheer agony still echoed in his ears.

Once more there was nothing else to see than black. But the enemy came from within.

Once the chains were no more visible the memories of the crime scenes rose in front of his mind's eye. It didn't matter if he was staring into the darkness or was holding his eyes shut. Each time his concentration decreased he lost the image of Alex and the corpses of the women came back to haunt him.

It became more and more difficult to focus. His own mind, filled with all kind of knowledge, turned itself against him. Due to his situation more and more pictures of victims and crime scenes surfaced from his memory. And the more he tried to block them out the more vivid the scenes became.

Between the faster and faster spinning episodes a suspicion of Kirkpatrick putting drugs in the water occurred to him. When the waking nightmares finally ebbed away he was almost sure of being drugged with some kind of hallucinogen. Even the lack of sleep could not have caused such a massive psychological reaction.

Sometimes he would have gasped or cried but the gag prevented him from that and made it more difficult to breathe evenly. He could not swallow as well and so saliva ran into his throat as he drooled uncontrollably.

_Where could he have gone? Is he far away or right outside that door?_

He had to fight the grief he felt for the killer's victims. When he thought about them, he felt his insides constrict and tears rise.

But he could not afford to cry. Once he cried his nose would be blocked and with it his only possibility to breathe.

_This filthy son of a bitch!_

Goren felt half suffocated which was not only due to the gag. The ball in his mouth added to his humiliation as well as to his pain. All his muscles were tense and tired at the same time. Yet they had to hold him upright. That became harder every minute. Now also his jaws joined in the screaming chorus.

He let his head rest against his arm. His abandonment issues got a whole new dimension. He did not mind to be on his own but here, suspended in darkness, he felt utterly alone. And neither reassurance nor comfort would be offered. Well, it was not the first time he was locked up, well, at least as an adult it was the first time. He knew how to deal with it. Just this time he did not know if or when he might be released. Growing up he knew that it would end when his mom's delusion ended. Here he knew that it only would become worse.

The ball in his mouth did not only silence him, it also forced his jaw to remain open and made it pretty sore.

_A subtle way of torture… but a way that works._

A sob rose, just to catch painfully in his throat, and he choked on the gag.

_Alex! Hurry, Alex. Please!_

His forehead crumpled.

_I'm not _that_ desperate already. I can endure this! I _will_ endure it! I'll be back together with you!_

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

_Alex! I won't let him win! I'll fight him! I'll do what I have to do to survive, but I'll fight him. Just don't let me down on this, Alex! Please come and get me!_

His silent vow and plea let his body shiver. His muscles tensed and next second a cramp hit his left calf. It shot through his leg and up into his back.

The gag just inhibited coherent speech, it did nothing to prevent sounds in general. When his body wanted to writhe but could not, a scream of pain erupted from his throat and echoed back from the walls.

_Better me than her,_ he thought, when the pain ebbed away.

Through his nose he drew in a deep, yet shaky, breath.

_I know you can do it. You'll find him. Just try to make it sooner rather than later._

He let his head rest against his upper arm. Another wave of despair washed over him. He feared what might be done to him, but he started to wish for Kirkpatrick's return nevertheless.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Little did Goren know that Eames was just about to call it a day. Night had fallen over the city and only adrenalin kept her going. Since Benson and Stabler were back again without any further information, they all were skimming through files with a grim determination. Yet, Eames felt her tiredness. She could hardly keep her eyes open and she knew that none of them would be of great use to Goren if they fell asleep at their desks.

The owner of the Chrysler had not been able to tell her anything important. One morning the car had been gone and was not sighted again until it was found near Eames' apartment building.

On her way back to Manhattan Eames stopped at several places she knew Goren frequented from time to time. Not one of her conversations could provide her with discoveries. They all knew nothing.

To clear her mind she grabbed the phone and made some calls, but it did her no good. There was no trace of Goren or the man who took him.

"I can't read anymore," Logan growled. "Okay, I can read but the words aren't making sense anymore."

"When did they ever make sense to you, Logan?" Barek teased.

They all broke out into laughter, but it was short-lived. Even Eames was distracted, if only for a moment.

"Right now they don't make sense to me either," Benson sighed and closed the folder in front of her with a snap. "I can hardly tell if this is a background check or a police record."

"I guess we all feel this way," Stabler mumbled. He glanced at Eames, who yawned behind her hand to hide her exhaustion.

"I know you don't wanna quit," Stabler said. "We could all use a few hours of sleep. Then we can face this fresh in the morning and maybe get somewhere with it all."

"I can't," Eames contradicted. "I have to find something…"

"Alex," Barek said compassionately. When Benson got up she moved up one chair to sit beside her. "You're dead tired. You have to rest for a while."

"I can't let him down."

"You won't let him down. But if you drive yourself into the ground, he'll never forgive himself for putting you through this. You need to rest, and you know he'd want you to."

"But what about him?" Eames forgot about the presence of the others and her voice became tight with emotion. "Can _he_ rest? Is _he_ treated well? Does he have food and water? Is he in pain?" Now she was approaching panic. "I have to get him out of there!"

_No,_ Barek thought, _I have to get _you_ out of here._

"Come, Alex," she said. "I'll take you home."

"No, Caro. I can't leave. There is so much more to do."

"I'll stay," Logan threw in. "I'll go to the crib for an hour or two and then continue."

"I could do the same," she contradicted, surprised by Logan volunteering.

"But Caro is right," he said. "You've barely slept last night. You need proper rest."

"You don't understand!" Eames mumbled. "He's in this situation because he tried to protect me. How can I leave now when he's needing me most? I… just can't."

"And now we have to protect you," Logan said, unusually empathetically. "You should go with Caro so that we can start fresh early in the morning."

"Mike…"

"No, Alex. He wouldn't want that. Take care of yourself. Right now that means that you take care of him, too."

Eames thought about that for a moment. "We'll make another stop on he way," she said, turning to Barek. "I have to talk with someone."

"Okay," Barek agreed. "Let's go."

"Thanks, Mike," Eames said before they left. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah," he mumbled, turning back to the files and rubbing his eyes as soon as they turned their backs on him.

"And? How long will you really stay?" Benson asked.

"I'll go to the crib in a few minutes," Logan admitted. "I already dozed off a couple of times. And I really have no idea what I read here." He closed the file and sank against his chair's backrest. "You going, too?"

"Yeah," Benson said. "To stare at this doesn't get us any further. You coming, too, Elliot?" She sounded strangely aloof, just asked out of habit, not expecting him to agree.

"I'll just finish this file," he replied, feeling her animosity. "Then I'll go, too."

So Benson left and Logan a moment later. Stabler took a last note and then headed for the elevator, too.

Half an hour later he sat at a bar, staring into a glass of whiskey. His mood was so down that it bordered on depression.

_Damn! Eames is mad at me, Logan ignores me, Barek pities me, and my partner refuses to talk with me… I should volunteer for the loser of the month._

He picked up the glass and downed its content. The burning liquid could not wash away his pain. For a second he thought about the fruitlessness of this operation and that he would pay dearly for it the next morning, before he ordered a new drink.

"Had a bad day?" the man to his right murmured.

"Yeah," Stabler growled. "Bad is an understatement of an understatement."

"Sounds awful." The man gestured the barkeeper for another drink for the both of them.

"Thanks," Stabler said, when a filled glass appeared in front of him.

"Want to talk?" the man offered.

Now Stabler turned to him. He was somewhat familiar… the PI from Atlanta!

"Were you following me?" Stabler asked.

_Yes, I was,_ Kirkpatrick thought. "No, pure coincidence," he answered instead. "You really had a bad day," he said, pointing to Elliot's head wound. "Crossed the path of the wrong guy?"

"Kind of."

"During the investigation?"

"That's none of your business." Annoyed Stabler turned back to the bar.

"You look exhausted," Kirkpatrick said. "You should go home."

_It's so late_. _She'll be mad at me again._ He frowned with this thought and sipped at his whiskey.

"Trouble at home, too?"

Stabler just glared at him.

"You need something to relax you," Kirkpatrick suggested.

"I'm just about to relax," Stabler said and sipped again.

"That?" he chuckled. "That won't relax you! And it won't drown anything, either."

"You're an expert?" he grumbled.

"I was an alcoholic… had to quit the force because I couldn't keep my fingers off the bottles. I know what I'm talking about."

Now Stabler frowned deeply. "Be cautious," he warned him, now noticing that the other man had a coke in front of him.

"Why? Just telling you my story. What you're doing is not my business."

"Exactly."

Kirkpatrick smirked. "Unless you want it to be my business. I like you." He waited a moment, but his words went unnoticed.

"Yeah, I like you, and if you let me, I could help you to relax."

Slowly his words sank in. When Stabler now looked at the P.I. he saw his smirk with other eyes. Finally the penny dropped and he rose from his barstool, stepping back.

"You're on the wrong way," he said, gesturing the barkeeper and getting out his wallet. Stabler paid his check and left the bar. On the street he turned to the right.

"I didn't want to insult you," Kirkpatrick told him, following him a few steps behind. "I just offered you some company. Maybe we could check in somewhere…"

_Enough is enough! _Stabler spun on his heels, facing the P.I.

"Okay, to make it absolutely clear to you," he spat. "I'm drunk but not _that_ drunk! And if you don't want to be arrested you will back off. You got that?"

Defensively Kirkpatrick held up his hands.

"Okay, okay," he said, retreating two steps. "No need to get mad." He turned and went in the opposite direction, still a smirk on his features.

Stabler stared at the man's back until he rounded the next corner. Then he continued his own path that led him to a familiar building. He hesitated to ring, but he was not prepared to take the long way to Queens either. When she opened the door for him she looked annoyed.

"You're drunk," was all she said, turning on her heels but letting him in. She got a blanket and threw it onto the couch. "Have you called her?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Told her that I'd stay at the station."

"Liar," Benson spat.

He cringed. Damn, he knew she was right! Yet, he just grabbed the blanket and plopped onto the sofa.

"Thank you," he mumbled. He was just about to tell her about his encounter with the private investigator when she turned and switched off the light.

"Next time you'll sleep on the stairs," she grumbled before she closed the bedroom door.

xxx

**unknown location**

How much time had passed he could not tell, but it must have been many long hours. In the meantime he really wished that his captor would come back.

Goren heard the door and seconds later he was blinded by white light, flooding from the ceiling. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against his upper arm.

"Still so sensitive," Kirkpatrick grinned and came closer. With some difficulty he removed the gag, barely avoiding being bitten. "And still fighting." His grin widened. "I appreciate that."

_Fuck you_, Goren thought. He knew better than to say it aloud. Actually he would have problems with talking. His jaw was so sore he wondered how he even had managed to try and bite. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the brightness and he could take a look at his prison, a large, cave like room, chains everywhere and just a pen, too high to reach, and the steel door as possible ways out.

Kirkpatrick knelt down and grabbed one of the shackles around Goren's ankles.

"I've seen Alex", he said in an innocent voice. "She looked good, not worried at all."

His grin broadened as he avoided a halfhearted kick. He fastened his shackle to another chain and opened the first lock.

"By the way", the man addressed him. "How was your day? Not so good by the look of yours."

Once again he stood right in front of Goren and locked stares with him also checking the irises. "Has worn off, hm? But I guess you had some waking nightmares not so long ago."

"What have you put in the water?" Goren asked, his voice hoarse due to his dry throat, ignoring Kirkpatrick's questions completely.

Kirkpatrick smiled. "Just some liquid ecstasy. You liked the trip?" He laughed. "You don't have to answer. I can see it in your eyes. – And I've watched it on TV, well, part of it." As he turned he pointed to the cameras installed up on the wall. "I got everything on video. You'd like to watch me raping Lindsay?"

_Not really_, Goren thought.

"Well, if your mind cleared again, we could play a round," Kirkpatrick suggested.

"Play?" he croaked. _He's not serious, is he,_ he wondered. _By second thought… yes that's like him._

"Yeah!" He grinned at him. "We started a chess game… let us finish it."

Still absolutely restricted in his ability to move, Goren had no possibility other then to watch how his captor set a board of chess and the corresponding game stones. Then Kirkpatrick took a paper and, studying his notes, put several stones in new positions.

"That's where we left off," Kirkpatrick said, turning the board to Goren so that he was presented the black stones. Six pawns and the queen were missing.

_Oh my God,_ Goren thought. _He means the victims!_

"It's your turn," Kirkpatrick told him. He eyed him carefully. Then he went over to the wall to push a lever.

The tension on the chains holding Goren reduced. He swayed when they went loose. Even if he still felt relatively strong when they had been tight, he now could hardly stand. Kirkpatrick grabbed his shoulders when he almost fell. Cautiously he guided him down.

"Hey, it's okay. I understand." Kirkpatrick grinned. "Just tell me, which stone to move."

Goren studied the board. He could not tell how Kirkpatrick had connected the murders with his moves, but he noticed a possible reason why he had changed his tactic and taken him instead of Eames: Goren's queen was taken, but his own queen was endangered! And the king?

"Knight to e5," he said. "Check."

Kirkpatrick stopped short. _What has he done?_

"You didn't do that, right?"

"Yes, I did." At least his mind was working.

Kirkpatrick made a move… With some difficulty Goren leaned forward to the board and made his own.

"Check mate."

_What the hell…?_ Kirkpatrick grinned again.

"Hey, you did it! I'm proud of you."

He went to his supplies and returned with a bottle of water and a sandwich.

"You can eat it," he said as he reached it over. "It's not poisoned."

Goren squinted up at him skeptically but took the food. His empty stomach demanded nutrition and he did not know when his captor might offer him more.

"To make it a challenge I'll raise the level for the next game," Kirkpatrick explained. He went to the entrance and turned the lights off.

So all Goren could see were the chains.

_Funny,_ he thought. _How am I supposed to play now?_

"Okay. You'll get white. I'll tell you the positions and we're playing."

"I don't want to play," Goren said.

For a moment Kirkpatrick remained silent.

"That's not your choice to make, Bobby," he finally replied. "It's your turn."

"You should have dyed the game stones, too," Goren suggested.

"Nah… that'd be too easy."

Goren heard the rustling of clothes when Kirkpatrick sat down on the floor.

"Actually it was Linda's job," Kirkpatrick told him. "She was sitting right here, painting all the chains. She did a good job, didn't she?"

From the short while the light had been on, the color already glowed again. Still it was somewhat creepy to look at the chains. As they were the only thing Goren could see, the room just was defined by them.

"She was thorough," he replied.

"Yes, she was. Hmmm, I guess she was under the impression that she could buy herself free by painting them."

_I wonder who let her believe that,_ Goren thought bitterly. He could imagine her sitting in this godforsaken cellar, a can of paint beside her and a brush in her hand. _Had she been naked, too? There were indications of that on her skin._

"Bobby," Kirkpatrick scolded. "You're white. You have to start the game."

_But there's been no trace of the paint._

"Bobby!"

Goren looked up at him. _Damn! I don't want this! _Reluctantly he opened the game by telling him how to move one of the pawns.

He had to concentrate on the single moves. In his mind he saw the board and the pieces as clear as if the light would be on. What made it hard to think was his overfatigue. Even when he had been standing, there had been moments when he almost was knocked out. Now that he was sitting on the ground he threatened to doze off at any time. Gathering all the strength he could find, he turned his mind to the current task. He positioned his game stones strategically and waited for the first opportunity. Kirkpatrick announced one move and there it was.

"You move the knight?" Kirkpatrick asked.

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I am."

Kirkpatrick moved it and thought well about his next move. He had to notice that he was trapped. He had to take his rook but then it would be gone the next move Goren would make. Damn! He made it nevertheless.

So Goren just needed two moves and Kirkpatrick lost again.

_You're one clever son of a bitch,_ Kirkpatrick thought. _I have to think of something else to make you lose. But in the meantime it's up with you again._

"That was not very nice of you, Bobby," he scolded.

_To chain and lock me up isn't exactly what I think of as being nice,_ Goren thought. He heard a motor and chains clanking, then the chain holding his wrist shackles tightened. _No!_

But he was forced to stand up again.

_God, that hurts._ In vain Goren tried to find a position he could stand more or less comfortably in. He was dead tired and he wondered when he might fall unconscious.

Behind himself he heard Kirkpatrick move. Suddenly he felt his hands on his body.

Gently Kirkpatrick stroked Goren's buttocks and thighs and felt the tension of aversion caused by his touch.

Inwardly he chuckled. When he spoke again he sounded as casual as if he were talking about the current weather.

"Did I already tell you that I'm bi-sexual?"

* * *

tbc… 


	16. Chapter 15

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hey, folks. Thanks for your reviews.

Dear _Onlyshadows_, I wish it would be as easy as that to update. The other stories were itching to be written, too, while I was stuck on this one. Well, at least your review (and the other fans breathing down my neck :D) fuelled my determination to find a way to continue and it finally worked. Please don't be too mad at me. I'm glad you like the story and would be happy if you'd review again.

Big thanks to _Blucougar._ I finally decided not to use it in here, but it certainly inspired me. :D Extra big thanks to you for you know what, too. :D

This chapter's for you, Blu!

Last but not least special thanks to _Infinity Star_ for beta-reading. :)

Enough of the babbling! On with the story:D

**1****5**

**unknown location**

"Hey, Bobby, don't forget to breathe," Kirkpatrick laughed as Goren caught his breath. "Was this admission such a surprise? I thought you might already suspect that I'm bi-sexual."

He laughed even more, viciously, as he wrapped his right arm around Goren's waist to cuddle up to him.

There was no way for him to defend himself against Kirkpatrick's advances. His muscles protested as he strained in vain at the chains that held his arms.

Kirkpatrick enjoyed the play of muscles against his body. He wanted to rock Bobby in security and so he waited until the tension ceased. Then he pushed his left hand between the buttcheeks and exerted pressure on his anus.

Goren was not able to remain silent anymore. His eyes widened in shock and he cried out with rage and disgust. His body reared in the hard clasp unable to avoid anything.

Kirkpatrick laughed out loud. He tightened his grip just a fraction to prolong the feeling just a moment longer. He feasted on Bobby's misery before he finally let go.

"I'll save the best for last," he stated. "Will be a pleasure for me to rape you. I always wanted to force a police officer. But I never expected it to be a male one."

xxx

**Long Island City**

Eames never made it home. Well, she wouldn't have been able to relax after all.

Even as she was dead tired, she would not find sleep. In spite of her exhaustion, sleep would remain elusive. Her thoughts were circling around Goren and what had happened to him. Her active imagination and years of experience among the dregs of society provided her with the worst scenarios her partner could possibly be in.

She desperately tried to divide her thoughts but they trailed back to the moment Bobby had found her in the closet. It had been heart wrenching to see him like this. She knew how deeply he cared and that he loaded the guilt for everything onto his own shoulders, but what had happened this day had shaken her… and changed something deep inside of her. There was a new feeling and even if she tried to tell herself that it was just misinterpreted empathy, she suspected that it was more than that.

"Here we go," Barek shook her out of her reverie.

When Eames looked up she saw the big letters above the garage's entrance: Lewis' body shop.

Eames had called him while they were driving and so he opened the door just seconds after she had rung the bell, awaiting them quite curiously, his face a mixture of curiosity and confusion..

"Alex! What's wrong?" was his first question.

It was all she could do not to break down crying. She had to be strong.

"Thanks for letting us come by so late, Mr. Stevenson," Barek said.

"Lewis," he replied and offered them the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Beer? Coke? I could make coffee."

"Coffee would be wonderful, Lewis," Eames tiredly smiled at him.

So he went to make the offered coffee.

"Lewis, I need to ask you some things," Eames said when he came back and he nodded. "Have you noticed anything suspicious around here lately? Maybe someone hanging around, watching the place?"

"Watching?" Lewis laughed out loud. "Who would be watching me? I mean, it's not as if there's something interesting going on here… I don't do stolen cars or anything else illegal. I just fix cars." He became serious as he noticed the stern expressions on the ladies' faces. "What is this about?"

"Bobby's been abducted."

Alex's soft answer hit him hard. He paled as her sentence hung in the air and sucked in all the oxygen. For a moment no one could breathe.

"Bobby? But how?" Lewis found his speech again, even if he sounded hoarse with surprise and worry. "How can someone just take a guy as big as Bobby's size? And why would someone do that at all?

She had no answer for him as she still had no answer for herself. The thought that her partner had been taken because he tried to protect her made her sick.

And then Lewis surprised her.

"There has been someone…" Lewis mumbled, deep in thoughts. "A big guy, dark hair, crooked nose… he brought in his car for inspection and… when we were in my office, he was snooping around."

"Snooping?" Eames pushed.

"Yeah. He was looking at my pictures and made a comment on the handsome guy I was working on the white 1965 _Stingray_ with."

Her gaze flicked to the wall of his living room. There on the wall hung physical representations of his memories of times past, when he and Goren hung out together, working and playing. The _Stingray_ had taken them a lot of time and care but it was worth it. They both regretted being unable to keep it.

"He made a remark about Bobby's body, his muscular build. I assumed he was gay."

"What did he say?"

"Strong and perfectly built like the Corvette you're working on," Lewis replied and both detectives shuddered.

"Lewis, I need you to come to One Police Plaza to describe the guy to a sketch artist," Eames said.

"Okay... when?"

"Right now," Eames said, getting up.

Lewis stared at her incredulously, but then again, it was her partner, _his best friend as well as hers_, who was missing.

"Let me just switch off the coffee machine," he said, running to the kitchen.

Lewis was thrilled to ride with Eames in the backseat, though he knew about the circumstances. He always was thrilled when she was around… but she was forbidden ground.

Barek concentrated on the street and did not pay any attention to the couple in the back of the car. So they could talk almost in private.

"Alex, why would someone want to kidnap Bobby?" Lewis asked miserably. "He has no savings or anything else that someone would want."

"We think that it was one of our suspects," Alex told him. "I can't tell you more, Lewis. I'm sorry."

She turned away from him, letting her mind wander. Her imagination tortured her. She could not begin to fathom what this guy might do to her gentle partner. And when she thought about what he had said about his perfectly built body…

She had to halt this train of thought in its tracks.

Long contained tears rose and trickled down her cheeks. Hidden in the corner of the car she allowed herself to shed some of them. Exhaustion drove her to sleep, and she remained sleeping for the rest of the trip, then she woke with a start, roused by a nightmare.

xxx

**Manhattan**

The sofa was too narrow.

When Stabler turned restlessly in sleep he lost balance and rolled over the edge, bumping out of his nightmare.

He was breathing hard, rubbing his hurting backside with one hand, his head with the other.

With terrified widened eyes he stared into the darkness in the living room.

Stabler was trying to clear his mind. Imagination mingled with memories. He saw himself in Bobby's place, bound, hurt, horrified… petrified.

Caused by memories, caused by too much alcohol… Stabler felt the urge to run and made it just in time to the bathroom.

Sitting on the ground he leaned on the cold lid of the bowl afterwards and wondered that his partner did not wake up from his coughing and choking.

He chuckled, but there was no joy in the sound. Memories rose, assaulting his mind with images as clear as they'd been when it happened.

_Liv? Won't you come in here?_ He was fighting the desolation that tried to get hold of him. _Don't be such a baby, Elliot_, he berated himself. _This is nothing compared to what Bobby's going through._

It had happened in the blink of an eye, catching him completely off guard. Never, he had sworn, never would he let something like that happen again. He had been back on duty the next day, Huang a few days later. The psychiatrist assured him that it had not been his fault, and deep down in his soul he knew he was right.

Just as it was not his fault that Bobby had been taken.

Yet, he had been there and he could have prevented it. Instead he let himself be knocked out. Again.

He never would forget that!

Somewhere deep inside his mind he knew that booze would not make him forget either. He knew it too well, from own experience as well as from advice given by a man he truly respected. Yet, he had tried to drown the memories which threatened to overwhelm him.

As soon as he closed his eyes he saw light, reflecting on cold steel that enclosed them. He saw his smug grin, just an inch away from his face. And he heard that cruel mock that still managed to give him the creeps: _She __didn't fight back_.

There was no way he could get back to sleep. So he pushed himself up, washed his face, grabbed his stuff and slipped out of the front door without Benson noticing anything.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

When they reached One Police Plaza, Eames found Logan in the crib. He did not look rested but she woke him nevertheless.

"Alex?" he mumbled. "You're already back?"

"Yes, we are," she snorted. "Obviously."

"How late is it?"

"Almost four a.m.," she answered and left the crib.

"So you're back early." He got up and followed her until he decided otherwise and headed for the restrooms. There he met a lean guy with ruffled hair in jeans, t-shirt and flannel jacket with a visitor's pass clipped to the collar.

"Hey, you look like I feel," the man said, giving him a lopsided grin. "You must be Mike Logan."

"Yeah. And you are?"

"I'm Lewis," he replied, extending his hand.

Logan shook it reluctantly. Then, slowly, realization dawned.

"You're Bobby's friend!" he said.

"Guilty as charged." A fleeting grin cracked Lewis' features before he became earnest again. He looked quite tired and sad. "Alex asked me to meet a sketch artist," he said before Logan could speculate further.

"Why? Did you see something?" he asked, puzzled.

"There was a guy at my body shop… she said it would be good if I could give a description… just to be on the safe side."

"Oh." Logan turned to the basins. He almost had forgotten why he was here.

"I haven't slept all night," Lewis continued. "The thought that someone took Bobby… abducted him…"

"Yeah…" Logan stepped to the faucet to wash his hands. Then he let water run into his cupped hands and washed his face, too, letting his wet hands run over his hair afterwards.

"Long night, right?" Lewis asked.

"And it's not over…" Once more Logan let his sentence die away.

"I just hope that I can help. I remember cars better than faces." This time it was an embarrassed grin that rushed over his face.

"What kind of a car was it?" Logan questioned as they strolled over to the bullpen where they found Alex at her desk.

"T'was an off-roader, Nissan Terrano, dark green, with custom interior. Green leather seats, wooden steering wheel combined with rubber for better grip and a wooden knob on the gear shift."

"Wow."

"Nice car," Lewis smirked. "But I like the older models better."

"The license?"

Lewis glanced up at him. "Sorry, didn't get it. We were talking about the inspection, then he withdrew the job."

"Remember part of it?"

"Hmmm… New York plates… I'd say 97 at the end."

A man approached them, also tired looking, in jeans and shirt, a drawing pad under his left arm.

"Morning, Carter," Eames greeted him. "Thanks for coming in so early."

"Early?" he grimaced. "No problem. Where's my witness?"

"That'd be me," Lewis said, raising his right hand like a schoolboy. Then he followed him to the second task room.

"You haven't even been home, have you?" Logan asked Eames when the other men were gone.

"No. We went to Lewis' and when he told us about the man who's been so interested in his photos, we stuffed him in our car and came back."

"You need some sleep," he mumbled. Then he strolled over to the his desk, sitting down to resume to read through the papers littering his desk.

"Had a bit in the car," Eames murmured to herself.

A few minutes later Stabler appeared in the doorway.

"Hey," he said softly as he stopped beside Eames' desk.

"Hey." She looked up for a second, just acknowledging his presence. _He looks like crap,_ she thought. Then she turned to her own file again.

Barek passed her on her way to join Logan.

Eames looked up. Her gaze fell on the empty chair.

A reminder of what they had lost.

_Lost! Damn! Bobby's not lost!_

She crumpled a paper and threw it at the innocent furniture. If they just would have a single clue where to start!

Two desks to her right Logan took his phone. He was talking about the license plates.

"Caro?! Alex?!" he yelled a bit later, slamming the earpiece down on its cradle. "We have the car!"

"Seriously?" Eames jumped to her feet and was over at Logan's desk in a matter of seconds. "Where is it? Who owns it?"

Logan explained, "It was reported stolen two weeks ago and discovered four days ago. It's in a compound. We should have CSU go over it."

"Yeah," Barek confirmed. "Then let's talk with the owner and the cops who worked the case."

"We have to know where it was stolen," Eames said. "Maybe we can pick up a lead there."

"Okay. Mike? Will you stay here? Alex and I, we could go find out about the car."

"Yeah, sure," he mumbled, surprised, a bit angry. "Whatever." He waved it off and sank down back into his chair.

Barek could not be angry with him. She knew that he was eager to do something more than to shove papers around. But she also knew that Eames had ants in her pants, and that was the reason she wanted to go with her. She wanted to keep her busy, because she would not sleep either.

So she gave her partner an excusing, but encouraging smile and headed to the elevators, right on Eames' heels.

xxx

**unknown location**

He awoke on bare concrete. Obviously he had lost consciousness and Kirkpatrick had let him down.

His body ached everywhere. He could not find any part of himself that did not hurt, including his soul.

Never before had he been so utterly alone and the prospect of a slow and painful death did nothing to ease his misery.

When he thought of Eames and that he had spared her this ordeal, he felt a bit better. Yet, he could not help but think that she still was not out of danger. No one could tell for sure if Kirkpatrick would not try to get to her even though he, Goren, was imprisoned here. And what would he do once Goren was dead? Would he go after her nevertheless?

The only thing Goren knew for sure was that Kirkpatrick's word could not be trusted.

With his hands still shackled, it took some effort to turn from his back onto his side. He propped himself up on one elbow to shift position, then he lay down again, resting his head on his upper arm.

It was everything but comfortable. But what choice did he have?

He also could not chose to do anything other than wait for Kirkpatrick's return. And waiting gave him time to think.

His mind took him on a journey back to his childhood. He remembered an incident with his father. It had been one of those mornings when dear dad came home from wherever he had spent the night. His clothes reeked of booze and women. Mom had had a psychotic break that night and started talking about strange men once more who tried to rip her family apart. That was why he had been locked down in the cellar when dad came home from one of his adventures. And because dad did not understand Frances, he did not understand why his son was downstairs, in darkness. Dad said he would teach him not to hide from him when work was waiting. There had not been any way to tell him that he was not there voluntarily. If he told him he would have taken it out on Frances… and when he remained silent, dad was sure that he was lazy, stupid and defiant. He had taken out his belt and done his best to cure his son from these sins.

It had felt like forever. And when Dad had been finished, he had locked him in there, too. They seemed to have forgotten about him being in the cellar. No one came to let him out. The day passed and then the night. When the door opened the next morning it had been Frank who came down the stairs.

That night had been really bad. Somehow he had made the day pass, but the night proved to be horrible. It had been so long now that no one came for him that he thought that they had forgotten that he really was there. Certain he would either starve or die of thirst, he had struggled to fight off a panic attack.

That was what he was fighting now, too.

Was Kirkpatrick right outside the door? Was he gone somewhere? If something happened to him… if he was not able to return… if he was caught but refused to talk?

_No! Don't think like that!_

His insides churned. Chasing the memories away, he made room for new thoughts. Horrible thoughts.

As they attacked his mind, his body remembered Kirkpatrick's touch. Still he could feel his arm around his waist and…

Desperately he tried to shut that out. His throat corded up instantly as he was reminded of the sadist's last action. Instinctively his body writhed as dry chokes shook it. The muscles in his backside tensed as memories of the assault returned. It really was as if Kirkpatrick's hand still lingered there, his finger seeking entrance.

Then he had stopped.

With terrifying clarity Goren imagined what would happen the next time the killer decided to continue this form of torture and more chokes made him tremble.

Haunted by his memories and vivid imaginations, he wished to drift off into the sweet nothingness of sleep.

* * *

tbc… 


	17. Chapter 16

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hey, folks. Thanks for your reviews. They were really inspiring. :D

Thanks to _Confused_ for breaking my block as well as to my beta-reader.

**1****6**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Eames and Barek had talked with the owner of the SUV who had not been amused to be woken up so early, especially as he could not help them at all. He had no information to offer that they had not already read in the theft report. So the next place they had stopped at had been the street where the car had been stolen.

"See something the cops missed?" Barek asked Eames who was strolling up and down the street, looking for security cameras.

"No," she replied. "Damn!"

"Can we go back then? We're wasting time."

Reluctantly Eames had agreed. Out on the street she felt as if she could actually do something constructive. To sit at her desk did not do her good.

When they reached One Police Plaza Lewis already had left. Now Eames was standing in the conference room and stared at the picture Carter had drawn after Lewis' description.

Behind her Benson and Stabler sat at the table, engrossed in studying files and big mugs of coffee sitting next to the remains of their ordered breakfast.

Eames sighed and returned to her desk.

"It's so frustrating," she said in a huff as she dropped in her chair. "We're running in circles or into dead ends!"

She put her elbows on the tabletop to rest her head in her palms. She was so damned tired.

When her phone rang she wanted to ignore it. Yet, it could be some news that might help them, so she picked it up.

"Eames."

It took her a moment to realize who she was talking to.

"No, Detective Goren's not in the office right now," she said. "And I can't…"

She listened.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Shimo, but that won't be possible. He's… what?! …sorry, but… Dr. Shimo, if you…" The doctor continued to talk even though she tried to tell him that Goren was not reachable right now. Then she froze.

"Say that again… I'll be there as fast as I can," she assured him.

"What's up?" Barek asked.

"That was Dr. Shimo from Carmel Ridge. I have to go and talk with him."

"He's the doctor of Bobby's mom?"

"Yeah. There's been a problem. I have to go there. I'll be back as fast as possible."

"I'll go with you," Barek offered.

"Thanks, Caro, but I'll go alone. You have to try find a lead to this guy."

Both, Barek and Logan, smiled wryly at her back when she left. As if they would not know that they had to find him.

xxx

**unknown location**

Finally he had fallen asleep, exhausted by lack of sleep and nutrition as well as by the strain that it had cost him to remain standing.

When Goren woke up again from a nightmare he felt his empty stomach rumble. How long he had been sleeping, he could not tell, he just knew that he did not feel rested at all. His body was stiff from lying on the floor. He cursed the damned concrete and he cursed Kirkpatrick. He cursed his own stupidity and that it had been so easy for Kirkpatrick to take him down.

"Good to see you awake again," Kirkpatrick suddenly spoke.

_Damn! He's sitting in the darkness and I bet he's enjoying himself tremendously!_

"C'mon," he scolded when Goren pulled away from him as soon as he grabbed his wrists. "Hey, relax. I just want to make you a bit more comfortable."

With _comfortable_ he meant that he opened one of the shackles that held the detective.

"Let's continue our contest," Kirkpatrick purred and set the chess board down beside him.

So the first chess game after the night took place in darkness. As well as last time this condition offered Kirkpatrick no advantage. Even if he could not see anything, Goren swept his pieces from the board in a matter of hardly half an hour.

Remaining silent, Kirkpatrick swore inwardly. His rage was on himself for not being able to defeat the detective even in darkness. As tiny as it might be, he could not allow him such a triumph. Next time he had to win.

"Bobby, it amazes me over and over again that you turned out to be such a smart boy, considering your dear cheating _daddy_."

"You think you could get to me that way?" Goren replied in an almost bored tone. Concentrating on the new game he did not notice the way Kirkpatrick emphasized the word _daddy_.

"No, not with your _dad_," Kirkpatrick conceded. He smirked. "Your mom and Frank are another matter."

_Try it._

"Not to mention your partner."

Goren just raised one eyebrow. In complete darkness he could just guess if he did, but it was in the man's pathology… he had to watch him. Besides he had to be able to see the board, so Goren simply assumed that Kirkpatrick wore his night goggles and chose to react as little as possible.

"As much as you cherish her, you just cause her worry and pain."

"I don't."

"You sound so sure," Kirkpatrick purred. "And what about picking up bombs out of wastebaskets?"

Goren snorted.

"Or stunts like dancing on the brink of a construction site?" He eyed his captive closely, studying his play of features in shades of green through the goggles. _He remembers… he remembers and it hurts…hurts because he hurt her!_ "Stepping in front of a rifle barrel without a protective vest… making friends with a cannibal…?"

_You're a well-informed son of a bitch._

"You don't talk with me anymore?"

"Well, you are talking…" Goren tried to find a more comfortable position. At least one of his hands was free so that it was easier to move. The other still stuck into a shackle. Too bad that the latter was his left. But at least there was no tension on it. He could sit on the ground or move around if he wanted to. Right then he sat next to the chess board.

"You learned to keep your mouth shut when you were a little boy, right? Not to raise your _dad's_ interest…"

Kirkpatrick turned the light on to relieve himself off the heavy night vision device.

"Did you ever think about why he always used you as his whipping boy?"

"Doesn't matter," Goren replied. Curiously he watched Kirkpatrick in his seemingly uninterested but absorbing everything way.

"Well, I guess it was because he knew the truth."

This made Goren at least look up at him, raising one of his eyebrows questioningly.

"What truth? That he could not stand me being smarter than they were?"

Slowly, while he watched Goren, Kirkpatrick started to smirk. "That's an interesting question, isn't it. I'd say that it bothered him, you being smarter than him. Just maybe not because of the fact that you _are_, but…" he paused to emphasize his next question. "…where do you think you got that from?"

Goren frowned. _What does he mean?_ This time he didn't get it.

"Bobby…" Kirkpatrick scolded, disbelieving, almost in an insulted tone. "No one of your family has your kind of intelligence, not even your librarian mother. Where do you think you got that from?"

"Does that matter?"

"Well, it obviously mattered for your _dad_…"

Kirkpatrick let this last word float in the air. It drifted between the two men like a ship on choppy seas.

_He thinks he knows some secret,_ Goren thought. _Well, it doesn't hurt to try and find out what's on his mind._

"What do you want to imply?" he asked.

"Nah, Bobby." He wagged his finger at him. "_You_ will tell _me_…"

Goren frowned. _Why does this scum talk about my family at all? What is he expecting from this game?_

"Are you insinuating that my father suspected me to not be his son?"

"Well, I was asking _you_."

"Frank was a cheater," Goren admitted, "but there's no reason why he should have assumed that I'm not his."

"Maybe you should think about it."

"Why should I?" His brows narrowed over his dark eyes. "That time's gone."

"Don't you want to know where you came from?" Kirkpatrick asked innocently.

Goren squinted up at him.

"Yeah… don't you want to know why they didn't want you?"

"They wanted me… it was just… dad."

"Yeah…" Once again he trailed off to let the word sink in. "So she wanted to give you away because of him, right?"

Now Goren sat up. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, did I raise your interest after all?" Kirkpatrick teased. "Do you want to know what I have found digging in your past?"

A deep frown shadowed Goren's face.

"What could there be to be found?"

"Some letters…"

"Of another man?"

"Of your mom." Kirkpatrick laughed. "She wrote to some welfare organization, wanted them to take you away from your home… all because of Frank."

Goren grimaced. "You can't fool me. She'd never done that."

"You're sure?"

_No._ But _that_ would he never say aloud. It gave him the creeps to even think about it. _Might it be possible? I never thought about that. Not even in her wildest delusions… no, she wouldn't do that._

Of course Kirkpatrick noticed Goren's distraction. He grinned.

"Oh, yes, she would. I've read the letters." He bowed to pick up a folder. "Actually, I have them here."

Goren pulled up his legs a bit more to wrap his arms around them. It was a slight protective gesture, but it made Kirkpatrick chuckle.

_Go to hell!_

"Oh, Bobby, did I hit a sensitive spot again?"

"No," he replied, without hesitation and without any hint of his emotions.

"Hmmm… I tend not to believe that."

"Believe it or not. I don't care."

"C'mon, Bobby. Aren't you curious?"

"No." _I don't have to be, because you'll show me the damned letter as soon as you think I'm not interested._

"Well, now that I've found them for you, you could at least have a look at them," he said, coming over and dropping the file next to Goren. "It's quite interesting."

xxx

**Carmel Ridge**** Center**

Down the hall towards the waiting area came a man in his fifties, short dark hair and a doctor's jacket on.

"Detective Eames?" he asked, as he approached her. "I'm Dr. Shimo. Nice to finally meet you. I heard a lot about you."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Shimo," she replied. "I'm sorry that my partner can't be here, but certain circumstances don't allow him to go anywhere." A sting in her stomach accompanied her words. It hurt so much to think about these _circumstances_.

"That's bad, but if he really can't come…" Dr. Shimo trailed off.

"You said on the phone that something's wrong with his mother."

"Not directly with Frances," Dr. Shimo said, gesturing for her to follow him and he went ahead into his office where they sat down on both sides of his desk. "It's rather that she seems to be convinced that someone strange has been in her room. She keeps telling us that there are some of her personal things missing."

"You don't believe her?" Eames asked incredulously.

"Well," he mumbled. "We can't really check if she's right. We don't keep track of her many books or her photo albums."

"Can I talk with her?"

Dr. Shimo watched her for a long moment that made her feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Don't get me wrong, Detective," he finally said. "But I'd like to ask you some questions before I consider this request. How much do you know about schizophrenia?"

"I was talking with my partner about it. I think that he answered my questions sufficiently."

"It's just that I need you to understand that she's in a fragile condition. Any more disturbance could throw her off balance and cause a real bad psychotic breakdown. We have to keep this in mind when we talk with her."

Eames nodded.

"And I need to know the reason why Bobby is not able to come to visit her." Dr. Shimo had assumed that it had something to do with Goren's job, but when he saw Eames pale, he became worried. "Is he alright?" he asked cautiously.

"If only we'd know," she replied lowly.

"What do you mean?"

Eames contemplated if she should tell the doctor the complete truth. After all, he treated his mother and she, of all people, had a right to know. And if there really were parts of her personal things stolen, maybe this was another lead. She needed to talk with Frances.

"He's missing," she admitted.

"Missing?" Dr. Shimo gently pushed.

"He vanished in the course of an investigation. So far without a trace."

The doctor let this sink in. Missing.

"When we go to see Frances, we should not tell her," he said more to himself than to Eames. "This could drive her over the edge."

Eames nodded her understanding nevertheless. Then Dr. Shimo showed her to Frances Goren's room.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

When she entered the office he was sitting slumped over the desk, his elbows on the tabletop, fists balled, his forehead resting on them. As his eyes were closed, he looked as if he were asleep, but Benson knew her partner well enough to notice how tense he was.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" she wanted to know, plopping down in her own office chair.

"Yeah," he mumbled without moving.

_Definitely not asleep,_ she noticed, amused. Then the amusement changed to concern. She remembered when he had shown up on her doorstep and when she got up he was already gone. So even if he had slept, as he claimed, it could not have been for long.

"Why don't you lie down in the crib for an hour," she suggested. "You're no help when you fall asleep here… and it doesn't look good in front of the captain either."

"I can't," he grumbled, finally looking up at her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean, you can't?"

"Gotta find him," he mumbled so softly that she almost missed it.

When Benson bent a bit to the side to look at him more closely, she discovered the pained look in his eyes.

"Elliot…"

"No!" he moaned, agitated, winding in his chair. "You don't understand…"

"I know that you're feeling guilty," she challenged him. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was."

Stabler got up and turned his back on her, pretending to study the board again.

"You could not know what would happen," Benson tried to reach him. "It really isn't…"

"It was right before our eyes," he huffed in frustration. "It was right there but I didn't see it."

"See what?" she asked softly.

"The star constellation," he mumbled barely audible. "I was absently scribbling the pattern of the stab wounds down… that's when… Kathy recognized it as star constellation."

_Kathy did?_ Benson could not deny that she was surprised.

"God! I wish I would have seen it earlier! I wish I'd have it drawn earlier! Anything! I just should have worked earlier, then… then this wouldn't have happened." He swallowed. "Goren would still be here."

Benson watched him closely, trying to figure out what was tormenting him exactly.

"What's bugging you more? That you weren't there in time or that he vanished before you could make up for your stupid behavior?"

His head snapped around to her, his eyes sparkling under narrowed brows. For a second she thought he might hit her, but then he smashed his fist against the board that the wall was shuddering.

"I'm back in about half an hour," he said, grabbing his jacket.

Before Benson could even try to talk with him, he strode through the bullpen and out towards the elevators.

xxx

**unknown location**

Curiosity? Yes, Goren had a big deal of that. So it was all he could do not to grab the file at once. It was quite an effort, not to play into Kirkpatrick's hands. He forced himself to remain unimpressed, watching the killer with mild amusement. To act as if he did not care at all was show and they both knew it.

Finally his view was drawn by the folder. Any attempt to talk with Kirkpatrick would be fruitless as long as he had not had a look at the content. So he picked it up and flipped it open. There were five pages in it, each one a letter of his mother to an organization asking them to take care of her child. Him!

"What do you want to prove with that?" Goren asked. "She never did it."

"They never let her. Her requests have been refused. Given another decision, she would have, you can be assured of that."

Studying the papers again, he frowned. Yes, here it was, black on white. And under the request the signature of Frances Goren.

A hard lump formed in his stomach. This was a cry for help and no one had reacted on it. Hell, it hurt, but he could not even blame her. She had been overtaxed and tried to find a way out of her burdened situation. Whatever her reasons had been, no one had helped her. So she had no other choice but to live with Frank or leave him. His heart ached for her, not himself.

_And I just know well enough that she couldn't leave him. She stayed with him and their marriage became worse with every year. Not to talk about her delusions._

A shudder passed him.

_If this really is true… and Frank senior was not my father… who _is_ my father?_

"Interesting, isn't it?" Kirkpatrick asked. "Seeing you and your family it didn't really surprise me to find out that you're a bastard."

Goren glowered at him.

"What?" Kirkpatrick cheered. "I'm just telling you facts. Hmmm… looks as if your dear mom wasn't the little trusty and patient house wife she wanted you to believe her to be. She also did her share of cheating."

Just about to reply, Goren was cut off before he could start.

"You know where Frank is, Bobby? Do you know where to find your brother?"

"So far he always has found me," he mumbled, not too happy with the memory of his brother's last _visit_.

"Yeah… Well, you're not _that_ hard to find, you, being a Major Case Detective." He laughed. "And it's surprisingly easy to find all this stuff about you. Hell, I wonder why the police doesn't catch more criminals when it's that easy." Still chuckling, he wandered over to his stash. "Wait! Could it be that you are _restricted_ by the laws you're trying to defend! You _could_ get these guys, right? You're not allowed to. _That_ must hurt."

"Doesn't hurt."

"But it must terribly bug you, doesn't it?"

Goren shrugged. The only thing bugging him right now was the guy playing mind games with him. The man had turned the tables on him in the worst way, and now he was a sitting duck for him.

With his eyes he followed Kirkpatrick. Just for a second he let his guard down, turned his back on Goren.

A second was enough.

Goren was on his feet at once. Ignoring his hurting muscles he launched himself at Kirkpatrick and hit him so hard that he crashed into the wall, going down between his supplies. Goren's heart started to pound so wildly with excitement that he heard his blood rush. He checked if the man really was unconscious before he turned to the stuff piled in the corner. He rummaged through the heap of things, then he searched Kirkpatrick, retrieving the key to his bondage and the steel door.

_Finally,_ he thought as he took off the shackle.

He rushed to the door and tried to open it. In his fervor he could not find the right key at once. With each key he tried, he became more agitated. If the man would wake up...

Finally it opened and from there Goren stumbled into another room, filled with all kinds of equipment. There were two monitors, computers and stuff he did not recognize. On one screen he could see the cellar, and Kirkpatrick down on the floor.

Frantically Goren searched for a phone, a weapon or anything else he could use. He found a cell phone but there was no connection down here.

_Out!_ That was all he could think about. _Out! Just out!_

Panic hit when his gaze fell once more on the monitor. Kirkpatrick was up again! His head flew around, staring at the door to the prison. The door was closed. He had pushed it into its lock when he got out. Still it did not lessen his panic.

_Out! Just out of here!_

So Goren turned to the stairs and climbed upwards, stumbled through the first rooms and out of a door into bright light.

For seconds he was blinded by the sun. As soon as he could see more, he ran down a path between trees and bushes, bound to get as much distance between himself and this hell hole as he could.

A bush tore his skin as he rushed by, but he hardly noticed it. There was a clearing… the van! Damn, he had no key.

He looked into the direction he had come from. No! There was no way he could go back to get the keys!

Goren flipped the cell phone open again and dialed a well memorized number.

Nothing!

Turning to a path leading away from the clearing he continued to run.

_There has to be a place where this damned phone is working! How far away am I now?_

He tried again.

With wildly pounding heart he listened to the signal indicating that the phone on the other end of the line was ringing.

xxx

**Carmel Ridge Center**

"I'll go with you in case she should need me," he declared.

Absentmindedly Eames nodded. All she knew about Goren's mother she knew from the rare occasions he mentioned her. So it was not very much. She did not know who and what to expect when she crossed the threshold.

"Hello, Frances," Dr. Shimo greeted. "Here's a visitor for you."

From her perch in a comfortable easy chair by the window Frances Goren turned around to them. As soon as their gazes met, Eames was vividly reminded of her partner. His mother's stare was as intense as his own.

_Definitely his mother's son,_ she thought and a chill ran down her back.

"Frances, this is Detective Eames," Dr. Shimo introduced her and the woman's eyes narrowed. "She wants to talk with you about your missing treasures."

That seemed to lighten her up. She looked Dr. Shimo straight in the eyes, then Eames.

"Show me ID," she downright ordered.

Eames had to suppress a chuckle as she noticed how similar to her son she sounded. She nodded genially and carefully pulled out her badge. "Here you go... I'm a detective, just like Bobby."

"You know my son?" Frances prodded.

"Yes, Ma'am. Bobby and…"

"Eames…" she interrupted her, suddenly remembering. "You're his partner at Major Case."

"Yes, that's right." Eames confirmed. She glanced at Dr. Shimo.

"Then you can tell him that it's rude to forget about his poor mother in this institution! He never forgets to call… and he better not forget his visit!"

"I'll remind him," Eames promised, hoping that she would get an opportunity to do that.

"Yeah, thanks," Frances said. "The ungrateful bastard could really do a bit more for me. He just deported me to this facility here. Nothing against you, doctor, but this is not really the Hilton."

_Ungrateful bastard?_ Another glance at Dr. Shimo, who could not really help Eames. She had to push this thought aside, together with other questions she might have wanted to ask.

"Your doctor told me that you're missing something. Please tell me what it is and when you have last seen it."

"Can you get me my album?" she turned to Dr. Shimo. "The thick green one."

He did as she had asked, took it from the shelf and handed it to her. She flipped through some pages, filled with memories of the Goren family. There seemed to be a gap. She stopped to point at another picture, one of a little boy around nine or ten.

"That was your partner," Frances smiled, letting one finger run over the dark, unruly curls.

Eames stared at the picture, her stomach turning into a heavy rock. _He was a cute little fella_, she thought. _How he's sitting there with the basketball in his hands, both between his knees. Yet, he already has this sad aura around him._

"Nice curls," she finally said. "Which position was he playing?"

But Frances did not answer, flipped back in the album.

"They're missing," she grumbled. "He must have taken them."

"Who are you talking about, Mrs. Goren?"

"This guy who was here," she whined. "Said, he was a reporter and wanted to write a biography about my Robert." With a snap she closed the thick book. "I suspected that he was lying. I wanted to find out more about him, but then an orderly came to take me over to see Dr. Shimo." She glowered at him. "Maybe he snuck back in my room once I was gone."

Dr. Shimo did not even flinch. He was used to her changes in temper. That he had not taken her serious was annoying, but he could not change it, so he planned to go with whatever Eames would do now.

"Mrs. Goren…"

"Frances," she offered.

"Okay… Frances." Eames smiled at her. "Do you remember this reporter's name?"

"Hmmm…was something with s… Sanders, Sanford… Saunders!" A smile lit up her features. "Yes, that was it, Saunders, Theodor Saunders."

"And you have looked at these photos with Mr. Saunders?"

"Yes… he said that Robert looked cute when he was young. Sounded really like he admired him." She giggled.

"I need the album," Eames said. "So that our scientists can search for prints."

"Is that really necessary?"

"It's the best thing we can do to help you get back what is missing. Are you missing anything else?"

For a moment she thought about this question, then shook her head, "No."

"Okay," Eames murmured, taking the book from Frances Goren. "I'll get it back for you as soon as possible. Thank you very much, Frances."

"It's okay." She grabbed her hand, patting it almost lovingly. "It was nice to meet you." Then her tone changed, became snappish and angry. Accusingly she glowered at Dr. Shimo. "I don't get this many visitors. My dear Frank, he would come, but he is soooo damned busy. And it's quite a distance for him to drive. Robert on the other hand… he could do much more for me." She nodded to emphasize her words. "Yes, he could. You can tell this little moocher that he better not fail to come to visit me!"

Eames was stunned. She felt a sudden pang for her partner. If that was what he had been growing up with…

"Now I want to read my book," Frances declared, turning to the window and opening said book. "You both have work to do."

So both, Eames and Dr. Shimo, left her room.

Not much later Eames was on the road again, back to One Police Plaza.

During the drive she let her thoughts roam. Her encounter with Frances Goren had been intensive and helpful. Still she was a bit shaken by what Frances had said about her partner. He had talked with her about his mother, about her sickness, and how he grew up with caring for her. But he refused to talk about the bad times he had had with her. Eames suspected that some of his worst nightmares had their origin in his mother's actions when she was lost in her delusions, but she never had pictured her as that abusive. And that certainly was just the tip of the iceberg.

In the passenger seat sat a box with security footage from Carmel Ridge and she hoped to find the mysterious man who had visited her partner's mother.

When her cell phone rang, she glanced at where it was put in its frame on the dashboard, frowning when she saw the _unidentified caller_ ID on the display. So she hit the button to activate the _hands-free_ mode of operation to answer, "Eames."

It was all she could do not to squeak with surprise when she heard his voice, and she slammed her foot on the brake to pull the car up on the curb.

* * *

tbc… 


	18. Chapter 17

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hey, folks. Thanks for your reviews.

Remember, this story is rated M for a reason, strong references to violence are included even if I try to make it work through the reader's imagination.

**1****7**

**unknown location**

"Eames," he heard her voice seconds later. She tried to hide her anger about the interruption and keep her voice controlled.

"Alex," he gasped, not giving a shit about how lost and scared he sounded. "Alex, help me."

It was all she could do not to squeak with surprise when she heard his voice, and slammed her foot on the brake to pull the car up on the curb. "Bobby!"

Her choked cry was more than he could take. A sob escaped him. His legs buckled beneath him and he sank down to the ground, unable to suppress the shudders that ran through his body. As the adrenalin subsided his exhaustion took over. So he could neither stop his body from shutting down nor keep the rising panic at bay. His chest was heaving when he desperately tried to breathe. The words almost caught in his throat.

"A...alex! I'm sorry. I'm s...ss' sorry," he choked. "Please come and get me."

It gave Eames the creeps to hear him like that. What the hell did this guy do to him?

"I will, Bobby," she promised. "Just tell me where you are." She wished that she could alarm someone to try and trace the signal.

"I have no idea," he mumbled. "I was… in the woods and… and now here's only grass… a hill covered with grass. Here's no one except for me."

"Where's the perp?" she asked, holding her breath until he answered.

"He… he must be in the cellar."

His voice trailed off. Now that he first had time to think more clearly, he had to admit that he had no clear idea if he really could trap him. This thought sent chills down his spine.

"He's in the cellar… Where, Bobby?"

"In the… room he had locked me in… He must be in there."

Eames did not like this _must be_ in his sentence. Either he was locked up or he was not. If he was not, he could get to Goren anytime soon.

"Bobby! Listen to me. Listen and then tell me what you did. How did you get out?"

"I beat him," he whispered. Still shivers made his body shake. He could hardly hold the light phone. Stress and exhaustion tried to wear him down.

"What happened next?"

Silence.

"I got his keys and… l…left the room he was h…hol…ding me in," he explained, still his voice unusual soft and hollow.

"It's okay. You're going to be okay. Where are you now, Bobby? How far away?"

"I don't know."

Eames shivered. This was so unlike him. _Abandonment issues,_ she thought. _This abduction must have shaken him to the core._ She was afraid to push him further, but she had no choice. "Bobby, c'mon, try to concentrate. How far did you go?"

"I'm sorry, Eames," he breathed. "I really don't know. Trace the signal and come here."

His voice trailed off again and she heard him choke.

"I'm so sorry I worry you. It was all my fault. If I…"

_God, I wish I could trace it. I need to find another phone!_

"Bobby!" she scolded. "You stupid genius! Stop talking like that! I'll be with you as soon as possible!" She just met silence. "You got that, Bobby? I'm coming. Just hold the line and keep talking with me!"

_If only I knew how to accomplish that._ Frantically she looked around. There was a car coming. So she jumped out of her own and flashed her badge, trying to stop it. But it shot past her and vanished.

"Alex?"

"I'm here, Bobby." He sounded tired, exhausted to be exact. God! She wished to be a _Genie_ to be with him in an instant. Another car.

This time flashing her badge and gesturing wildly helped. The car passed her, but the driver stopped it a few yards away on the curb. She ran over to him and presented her badge again.

"NYPD," she said. "Sir, do you have a cell phone?"

He nodded.

"I need it. Please call this number," she handed him her card and pointed at the number, "with the 34 instead of 86."

Nodding his approval again, he got the phone out and dialed.

"Alex? What's going on?" Bobby asked shakily as he realized what she was doing. "Where are you?"

"I'm on the road," she admitted. "I had to stop another car to get a phone to call Deakins. Hold the line, Bobby." She received the phone of the driver and held it to her other ear. "Captain Deakins! Eames here. I need a telephone trace. It's the caller on my cell phone… yes, sir… no, sir. I have Bobby on the phone."

There was silence in the line. Then she heard Deakins yell.

"We're going to trace the signal, Bobby," she said to her partner. "Just hold the line. Can you get away further from where you are now?"

Silence met her request.

Once more Goren shuddered. Suddenly he felt soil and grass under his legs and backside. His feet hurt from his run over rough ground. He shifted his weight to find a more comfortable position.

"Alex…"

"I'm here, Bobby. Hold on!" Anxiously she waited for Deakins to confirm that they got the signal. Her partner sounded so small and scared, so nothing like him, that it started to scare her. "Bobby?" she asked when he remained silent for a moment.

"Yeah… I'm here… I… won't go anywhere."

"You should move, Bobby… get as far away from there as you can! Okay. Bobby, tell me if you are injured!" she ordered, giving her voice all the strength she could muster.

"J… just some… scratches," he answered. "Do you have the signal?"

"We're working on the tracing," she assured him even as she had no way to tell what her colleagues were doing back at One Police Plaza. "Tell me Bobby, tell me honestly if you're wounded."

"No...thing s...ss...serious."

God, it was heartbreaking. She had witnessed how he was put through hell by Nicole Wallace, she knew that he could do the same even more thoroughly to himself, and she had seen him stagger when he found out that this killer targeted women he knew, even if it was just superficial. His gentle and tender heart was strong and courageous, but it was easily shaken all the same.

Something in his voice left her breathless. She wanted nothing more than to hold and comfort him, but all that she had was a damned phone connection!

"Bobby, I'm on my way," she said. "You're going to be okay. You hear me! You'll be okay."

He did not answer and she became worried at once.

"Bobby!" Still silence. "Bobby! Do you hear me?"

_If he's unconscious,_ she wondered. Fear grabbed her heart. She knew from experience that he played down his own needs. He would not necessarily tell her if he was seriously injured… just to spare her the worry.

"Bobby!"

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"Logan!" Deakins yelled. "The tracing!"

"They're working on it," Logan replied. He searched the eyes of his partner for reassurance. The moment Deakins shot out of his office screaming for the technicians to trace Eames' cell phone had found him engrossed in files again and he had needed one second of reaction time when his captain pushed for action.

The technician on the phone asked for his attention.

"They have her signal," Logan passed the information on. "Now they're going to trace her caller."

The waiting was unnerving.

_How long can that possibly take?_ Logan thought. _They never needed so much time, did they?_

One glance at his partner told him that she was on tenterhooks, too. Her lips were slightly apart and her whole posture radiated compassion. _She never looked more beautiful._ Logan almost flinched back from the thought. _Hell, she's my partner!_

When his gaze fell on his other co-workers he noticed that they all stared at him. No one cared for paperwork or calls anymore. A dead silence had fallen over the usually busy squad room. Logan swallowed. Benson checked her gun.

Deakins stood next to his desk, the receiver pressed to his ear, watching his squad. They all were taut as a bowstring, ready to react as soon as they knew what and how they could react.

But then he saw something he never had expected to see: Logan paled.

xxx

**unknown location**

After a hiss into his ear Goren did not dare to answer. He felt the cold steel of a gun against his head and a hand against his own that grabbed for the cell phone. It was plucked out of his fingers and the muzzle moved until it pressed against his forehead, forcing him down.

So he lay on the grass on his back and stared with undisguised hatred up to his captor.

"Where do you think you're going, Bobby?" Kirkpatrick sneered, putting one foot on his victim's chest, holding the cell phone like a trophy. "Is this your little sidekick?"

Goren did not answer.

"I bet she is." He lifted the phone to his ear. "Detective Alex?"

Eames' blood froze in her veins when she heard the cold voice of her partner's captor.

"I swear to God… if you do so much as…"

"Yeah, you can swear as much as you like," he chuckled. Then he dropped the phone.

The shot certainly rang in Eames' ear before the bullet destroyed the phone and the line went dead.

"We don't want her to trace the signal, do we?" Kirkpatrick snickered. Then a frown clouded his features and he stepped back.

"C'mon, Bobby. Get up," he ordered, motioning with the gun to emphasize his words.

Goren refused to follow them. He was content to lie on his back, staring at the blue sky with the small cirrus clouds.

"I don't like to repeat myself," Kirkpatrick grumbled. "C'mon, move."

"No."

The man was taken aback.

"I won't go there," Goren said hoarsely.

"Oh, yes, you will," Kirkpatrick contradicted. He bowed over him and grabbed his neck from behind, trying to pull him to his feet. Next he got hold of an arm and seized hard, but Goren remained where he was.

"You get up at once or…"

"Or what?" Defiantly he looked him dead in the eyes. _He wants to force me back down there? He'll have to shoot me…_

"Bobby, I promise you that you will bitterly regret it if you don't move at once." As he studied Goren's hardened features he knew he could talk until he was blue in his face. The detective would not move an inch on his own. "I certainly won't haul your sorry ass back in!"

Goren looked up at Kirkpatrick and sighed. _Fine with me,_ he thought.

He was not afraid to go. He just was afraid of what his death would do to his partner.

At least he would not die in this hell hole. He was out, he felt the sun and a breeze on his skin… and he had heard her voice. Still it echoed in his ear.

Over him Kirkpatrick was raising his gun, cocking the trigger. For seconds Goren stared into the barrel, then he closed his eyes.

xxx

**O****n the road**

Eames went rigid as the shot thundered through the phone right into her ear. Then the line went dead.

_Oh, my God!_

Her breath caught in her lungs. Air neither went in nor out. She staggered and did not even notice the hands that grabbed her shoulders and pushed her through the open door right into the driver's seat. When someone grabbed for the phone she just let it go.

"Sir? My name's John Trautmann. I was stopped by your Detective... Eames," he read from her card, "because she needed a cell phone. Something must have happened on the other line."

He listened but nothing came in response.

"Sir? - No, Sir. I just drove down the road when Detective Eames stopped my car. - Yes, she was speaking on another phone and asked me to call the number on her card."

Trautmann looked at Eames. The blond woman was pale and her hands were slightly shaking. Except for that she seemed to be okay.

"No, she didn't say anything. - Yes, yes... one moment, Sir." He squatted next to his car. "Detective Eames?"

She did not react to him. Her eyes were directed at the asphalt of the road, but she did not see it. She only saw what was on her mind's eye. Her lips moved and it took Trautmann an effort to finally make out what she was whispering repeatedly.

"O my God, is he dead? Has he killed him? He could be hurting him. Bobby, are you okay? Please be okay... please... please God…"

"Detective! Detective Eames." He did not know how he could get her focused on him. She was just talking about this Bobby whom he did not know.

"Sir?" he asked Deakins. "Who's Bobby?"

"One of our detectives... What is she saying?"

"She's repeating: _O my God, is he dead? Bobby, are you okay? Please be okay..._"

On the other end of the phone Deakins sucked in air and grabbed for his desk. Then he sank down in his office chair. _God! No! Please, not Bobby!_ "I want to talk with her," he said.

"I'm not sure if she can..." Trautmann mused. "She doesn't look so good."

"I need to talk to her," Deakins said. "Hold the phone for her, okay."

"Okay..." Reluctantly he looked up at Eames again, holding up the phone. "Detective! Your captain wants to talk to you... Detective Eames?"

Slowly her eyes cleared and she looked at him, haggardly. He held out the phone to her. She looked at him as if she did not know where she was, but then she took the phone. "Yeah?"

"Detective Eames, tell me what happened," Deakins ordered her in his best commanding voice.

Eames swallowed and tried to focus. Still the shot was ringing in her ear. "He... he..."

"Yes, Detective?"

"He... shot. I heard a shot!"

"What else?"

"Just that. A shot and then the line went dead."

Deakins did not like the implication of her words. He had to force himself to think that this did not necessarily mean that Goren was dead. It was even harder to try and convince her.

"Eames, listen to me. That you heard a shot does not mean that we have to assume the worst. It does not mean that he shot Bobby."

She just sat and listened while he was talking. She wanted to believe. She desperately wanted to believe he was okay. But that led her to another, even more disturbing, thought. As bad as it was to assume that he might be killed... for her it was even worse to think of the possibility that he was caught again, caught and brought back to his prison. She was shaking with the thought. If he was back in the clutches of this monster again... she could not begin to imagine what he might do to him.

"I know, sir," she finally replied lowly. "What about the signal? Could you trace it?"

Deakins looked up again. The sight of Logan sitting slumped on the corner of his desk was all he needed. Whatever had happened... it led to them losing the signal, too, before they were able to locate the caller's position.

"Sorry, Eames. We lost it."

It was all Eames could do not to cry out loud. "God, no…" she whispered instead. _That can't be. No! Bobby got out, he managed to call me… and we let him down! I let him down! I lost time because I was on the road and not at the office._

Deep down she knew that it was not her fault. Still she felt miserable. It took a moment before she could understand what Deakins told her next.

"Yes, sir. I'll be back as fast as I can," she answered. She looked at the unfamiliar cell phone and then at the man squatting in front of her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Can you drive?"

Eames took a deep breath, then another.

"Yes, I can," she said and handed him his phone. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiled and stood up, then he extended his hand.

Even as she did not really need it she took it and let him help her to get out of his car.

"I would like to buy you a coffee," he said, "but I take it you're busy."

"Yes, I am." She did not really get what he said. She wanted to get back to her car and to her squad to get just what he said, busy.

"Maybe we can meet another day for a coffee," he said, holding out his business card. "I got your card."

_An__economy__attorney,_ she thought, taking it. _Nice._

"Big maybe," she replied. "I'm almost always busy."

"Maybe a coffee-to-go," he grinned. "Between two interrogations."

That raised a small smile in her.

"Well, I guess you'll find the Major Case Squad," she said and pocketed his card, then her own cell phone. She emphasized the name of her squad to let him know that she was tough and dangerous. He seemed to be rather impressed and encouraged.

"Okay. Now don't let them wait."

With his eyes he followed her when she climbed in her car and drove off. He knew that she would not call and he was not sure if he would do it, even if the idea to meet her again made the risk worthwhile.

xxx

**unknown location**

He was shaking with rage.

When he saw his toy close his eyes he could have shot him at once, but he restrained himself and smacked him with the gun instead.

Now he was just halfway conscious and bleeding from a laceration on his hairline. It was not easy to turn the big cop to get his arms behind him to cuff the wrists, even if he was a big man himself. Finally he managed it and snapped the metal eights in place. Then he took one of his favorite tools, his belt, out of its loops and put the noose around Goren's head, placing the leather between his jaws. Then he pulled it tight and buckled it.

For a moment he just towered over his prey and looked it over. The skin already was grazed at several places, from lying on the concrete as well as from running over the rough ground, especially the feet.

_I don't like that,_ he thought. _He was supposed to still be intact at that stage of the game._

But now he could not change it. And he had to get him back to the cellar.

"Get up!" he ordered when Goren slowly regained his five senses. "C'mon, Bobby! Move!"

To emphasize his order he pulled on the belt around his head, making Goren groan. He took hold of the left arm, too, and finally managed, to pull him up to his feet. Then he began the long way back.

Even if he was overpowered and bound Goren tried to resist, to plant his feet, just to stop him somehow. To no avail. Certainly his bare feet hurt as he stumbled over the rough ground. Then they were back on the path that led to the entrance to the cellar. Goren bucked and reared but nothing could help him. Kirkpatrick shoved him through the door and down the stairwell. Then he pushed him into his prison, grabbed the chain, hanging from the ceiling, and attached it to his cuffs with a padlock.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

When Stabler came back to the squad room, deadly silence greeted him. He saw some ashen faces and knew at once that something terrible had happened. At once he berated himself for leaving just these fifteen minutes at the most.

"Liv," he addressed his partner. "What happened?"

When she turned to him her startled expression changed to angry.

"Where've you been," she asked in an accusing tone he did not expect.

"Where I've…" The question in return died on his lips when Deakins stepped out of his office and addressed Logan.

"They lost the signal," Logan said. "Before they could determine the location it was gone. They just have a general direction of outside New York, towards the Catskills…" His voice trailed off. "Not clear enough to start a search."

Silence reigned for a moment. Then everyone turned back to what he was doing before the call came in. Deakins' view fell on the SVU detectives.

"Stabler. Can I have a word with you?"

_What the hell did I do wrong?_ he mused. "Yes, sir," he said and just shared an irritated look with Benson before he went to the captain's office.

"Take a seat," Deakins said as he entered and closed the door.

Wordlessly Stabler sat in the same chair he had occupied when he had been in here together with Eames, but then he had to ask,

"What happened?"

"Where have you been?" countered the captain.

"I had to make a run and stopped by at forensics on my way back. It took me hardly fifteen minutes, so what happened?"

"Goren called Eames," Deakins answered.

Stabler's heart shot into his throat just to drop into his stomach a split second later. Goren had called?

"Could you…?"

"The techs lost the signal before they could locate his position." Deakins leaned back and kneaded his hands thoughtfully. "Eames was on her way back to the squad when she got the call. She should be back in about thirty minutes."

"And they could not even narrow the area of where the call came from?" Stabler asked, having trouble keeping his voice from shivering. His excitement over the lost opportunity made him tense and edgy.

Deakins shook his head. "The connection didn't last long enough."

For a moment both men fell silent. Then Deakins rose to speak.

"You said you were at forensics. Any news from Taylor's team?"

"Nothing substantial. I was talking with Messer about the stab wound pattern on Stephanie Fountain."

"There's a special pattern?" Deakins wondered.

"Yeah…" Stabler's stomach rumbled. He had talked with Olivia about it and with the others, too, as far as he could remember. He did, didn't he? Did Deakins know? "They are in the pattern of the star constellation of Libra. It… it might represent the…"

"Scales of Lady Justice," Deakins interrupted. "Yeah… Why didn't we talk about that earlier?"

"I don't know," Stabler admitted. "I just went to the lab because I wanted to talk with the forensics to get another opinion."

"Okay…"

"I guess it somehow went unnoticed in the uproar of Goren's disappearance. We need to add that information to our perp's profile."

Deakins nodded thoughtfully.

"I need to talk with you because of Eames. She's under a lot of stress and you'll have to relieve her of it. You'll stand in the fire."

"I'm used to that," Stabler said before Deakins could continue. "This is not the first high profile case I'm working, we're working. Detective Benson and I have dealt with all kinds of cases, including kidnapping and serial…" He trailed off. "I think that we still have a chance to find him. Huang once told me that serial killers don't personalize, but this one does. And I think that that is the fact that might still keep Goren alive."

_I really hope so,_ Deakins thought. He wanted to believe it. It was all they had so far.

"We need to talk about the profile again. Eames told me that she'll bring video footage from _Carmel Ridge_ in that might have the perp on it."

"He's supposed to be on the tape? What did she say he might have done?"

"Eames did not talk about that. You should clear that up when she's back." Deakins looked him over thoughtfully. "We should talk with the others about your theory, add it to the profile and discuss possible new approaches. Then I'd like you to watch the video footage together with Eames to evaluate them." _Maybe after you take a break in the crib,_ he thought. _You look like crap._

"Yes, sir," Stabler confirmed.

Deakins nodded, got up and let Stabler go first when they gathered the team to go to the other office to talk.

xxx

**unknown location**

_Back in the cellar…_ Goren could have cried out with mental pain. He was sick to his stomach with the realization that he would be locked up again. Then the chain was attached to his cuffs. _No!_ he sobbed inwardly.

The chain was not tense and a moment later he got to know why when Kirkpatrick ordered him to kneel down. Reluctantly he did as he was told and sank down on his knees.

Goren already felt tension on the chain which increased when Kirkpatrick started the mechanism and the chain rolled over the wheel, tightening. So Goren had no other choice than to bow forward and he groaned over the belt that still parted his jaws.

"Don't be so pathetic," Kirkpatrick scolded. "It's your own doing. You had to run away…? Now you'll get what you deserve." Standing right next to Goren now, he unbuckled the belt and took it out of his mouth. "You can try to remain silent, but I don't think that you'll manage it. After all, we're alone here, so nobody will be offended by some noise. Means, you can scream as much as you like." With that he patted one of Goren's exposed butt cheeks.

_You can bet I won't… as long as I can._ Goren was worried. He suspected that his threshold of suffering was not very high right now.

"I know you'll try to suppress it," Kirkpatrick mused, trailing the line of Goren's spine up and down and up and down… "But I'm sure _you_ know that I'll do my best to make you forget your good intentions."

_Unfortunately…_

Goren did not look forward to whatever Kirkpatrick was going to do. He already hurt all over his body but knew that it would only become worse.

His fears were confirmed as the man's hand slid between his butt cheeks, searching and finding the tight pucker and caressing it. Goren clenched his teeth and tried not to react.

To keep his balance in the position he was in, he had to kneel with his legs a bit apart. That served to be an invitation, but he could not change it.

Kirkpatrick stopped. He wanted to play otherwise.

"I have something for you," he said as he got up to retrieve something from his supplies. He returned with a small bag.

Goren squinted up at him with dread in his stomach. The bag was not labeled but he had a strong suspicion what it might be.

"I'll teach you to run away," Kirkpatrick told him. "Don't bite your tongue by trying not to scream…"

And with that he rubbed a pinch of salt in the wound on his hip.

Goren clenched his teeth even tighter. They ground. He wondered how long he would be able to endure treatment with salt… he already felt like passing out every second.

"You get the point?"

_Yeah…_ But he was not ready to talk.

So Kirkpatrick took another pinch of salt and looked him over where to place it. Then he decided on the sole of his left foot.

Goren sucked in a breath, but otherwise just ground his teeth. He pressed his eyes shut and felt them sting with tears.

"Hmmm… guess you still don't get it, right?"

And he put a good fingers full on the sole of the left foot now to rub it in.

This time Goren groaned, he grunted… pain shot from his foot through his leg and in his back. The other way round pain shot from his stretched arms in his back, too.

"Serves you right, Bobby," Kirkpatrick snickered. "I mean throwing me into the wall hurt. So you deserve punishment for that, too."

_Fuck you. _Goren grunted. _Good that I just thought that or he would probably do that right away to me…_

"Hmmm… what to do now?" Kirkpatrick mused and patted Goren's butt again.

He sat down next to him and lit a cigarette. As he smoked he watched the helpless man in his bondage. His teeth were still clenched to suppress other signs of pain, the muscles tense from straining futilely against the chain. He wondered what was going on in his mind.

Actually Goren did not think very much right at that moment. Pain enveloped him and yet he knew that the torture just started. His insteps hurt from kneeling as did his knees. The sole of his foot was burning from the salt and his back hurt from the bowed position he was in. Right now his arms were the worst. The wrists stuck in cuffs that bit in his joints and the arms were cruelly straightened upwards over his back. That put strain on his shoulders, too, and all together made him tremble with pain. Sweat glistened all over his body and his mouth was dry as if he bit into a heap of sand. Still a little blood trickled out of the laceration where Kirkpatrick had hit him with the gun. Mingled with sweat it ran into his eye, burning it.

"I'll be right back," Kirkpatrick said and got up. As he passed his captive he carelessly stubbed out his cigarette between Goren's shoulder blades.

Goren's muscles contracted and cramped from the pain of the burn. Choking gasps escaped him as he tried to fight without success. This time he kept himself from screaming, next time might be another matter.

He tried to look up, but his head seamed to weigh a ton. How long did he want to keep him there? He already felt dizzy from the position itself... together with the torture it made him sick.

Kirkpatrick strolled back to him, a sandwich in hand, munching on it with pleasure.

"You like some?" he asked innocently, holding it in front of Goren, but still out of reach. "Too bad... you were misbehaving, so I can't give you anything to eat. You want some water?"

Goren refused to react. Whatever he did, it would be wrong. Kirkpatrick grabbed his hair and pulled his head back to face him.

"Answer me."

Goren's eyes were bright with pain. He tried to blink the sweat away, but that was fruitless.

"Trying to be the tough guy, Bobby? Doesn't really suit you…"

Still he put the sandwich aside and took a bottle. He brought it up to Goren's lips and let him sip a few mouthfuls.

"Are you enjoying your little stay at the _Hotel de Sade_?"

Goren did not answer. His muscles screamed from the strain and he felt utterly humiliated, being totally exposed. Actually he felt as if his arms would be jerked right out of their sockets in case he should lose consciousness.

"Well, I guess you do… Otherwise you'd complain, right? I bet you'd never shy back from complaining." Kirkpatrick chuckled. "I know you can raise your voice. I heard you do it. You have quite an impressive voice."

These _compliments_ did nothing to ease Goren's pain. If anything they increased it emotionally. Chained up with his hands behind his back, kneeling on the ground, his arms pulled up backwards by the chain so that he had to bend over, there was nothing he could do to defend himself.

"I know you're a lefty," Kirkpatrick said almost cheerfully. "But what about your feet? Any favorite there?"

Goren just grunted.

"No?" He chuckled. "Then I'll chose one for you. I'll teach you to run away…"

Goren dreaded to find out what the pervert had in mind. He had seen a box in his hand, but did not know what it was. Whatever he got then, he did not know. He had done it behind his back.

"Right? Left?" Once more Kirkpatrick laughed. "Doesn't really matter."

With that he knelt down on Goren's right calf to fix it to the floor.

_What the hell does he plan to do? What will he…?_

Goren froze and caught his breath when he felt something spiky prick the sole of his foot. He heard a scraping sound, like metal over concrete, and out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a hammer.

_Noooo!_ His heart skipped a beat, then it started to race. He only had split seconds to prepare himself mentally before the nail bit into his flesh.

Goren felt it go in and he writhed as much as was possible in the torturing position he was held in by the chain. He clenched his teeth, desperately trying to breathe. But the shock sealed his lungs. He was not able to draw in air. White shadows clouded his vision.

_Clank!_

A second time Kirkpatrick banged the hammer on the nail and Goren felt it break through.

He gasped. As it was tight, the chain did not even clank when he writhed again in agony. Still he did not give any sound. Unless you wanted to count his crunching teeth.

The white shadows became thicker and darker until they made the light fade and wrapped Goren in darkness as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Kirkpatrick stared at him with dismay. He had been looking forward to doing more than just that kind of nailing. Goren's blackout had saved him… this time.

* * *

tbc… 


	19. Chapter 18

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hey, folks. Thanks for your reviews. They were great. :)

Sorry it took me so long again, I was badly stuck. Hope the chapter can make up for the wait. Have_ fun_. :) Thanks to _Bammi1_ and _JO_.

**1****8**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

How she managed to drive Eames could not tell. Next time she consciously thought something, even though she could not remember what it was, she was wrapped up by Barek's arms, someone else rubbing her back comfortingly. She had no idea how she had made it back to One Police Plaza, but now she was surrounded by her colleagues. There was Deakins, too, and judging the comments she heard through the rush of blood in her ears she also had given a report of what had happened not only on the street but also at Carmel Ridge.

"Alex?" Barek asked soothingly. "Do you feel a bit better now?"

Still everything was a haze. The voices around her were mingling and she could hardly make out the line Barek had spoken. Eames managed a tiny nod, though she did not really know if that what she was feeling now was _better_.

"Okay. We need to get going. Thanks for bringing us the tapes, Eames," Deakins said. "Stabler, Benson! Go watch them. One of the guys in the drawings must fit the tape."

That was finally reaching Eames mind.

"I want to watch them!" she threw in. "I'll do it together with Stabler."

"Eames…"

"We're doing it. C'mon, Stabler," she said, gesturing him to follow her and tried to grab the box with the tapes.

Stabler was faster than she was. He nodded at her to go ahead.

"Eames, you need some rest. You're upset and in shock…"

"I can do it, sir," she cut him short. "I'm fit enough to do it."

"Someone else could help Stabler…" Deakins started.

"I can do my job… _sir_," she replied angrily. "I brought the tapes, now I'll watch them. You all have other things to do." This time Deakins did not try to talk her out of it.

That had been two hours ago.

Now she rubbed the sore back of her neck and rolled her shoulders. She did it subconsciously, just concentrating on the screen. Eames could not keep silent tears from running down her cheeks. She did not notice that the tape stopped.

"Alex?"

She felt his hand on her forearm. "I couldn't recognize it," she sobbed. "He was talking to me, but I couldn't recognize it."

"You have heard his voice? You said that you were just talking with Bobby."

"Yeah… he… he took the phone… when he got to him. Then I heard his voice and… and it sounded somewhat familiar."

For a moment Stabler did not know what he should say. "You're still upset. You'll remember when you…"

"I don't have time to calm down again!" she yelled. "Bobby doesn't have that time. We gotta get him out of there!"

_I know,_ he thought. Her outbreak did not surprise him. Maybe it helped her to focus.

"Forcing yourself to remember doesn't help. Let us watch these tapes and it will pop up in your head."

Eames looked at him quite skeptical. She was not convinced that it might work out, but she knew that they had to get that done, so she turned back to the screen again and Stabler started the tape.

They were watching in silence. Still Eames had the sound of a voice on her mind. She was not able to understand what it said, but just the tone of it was so damned familiar that it hurt physically to listen, to know that she should be able to identify the man but could not.

"Stop!" she screamed.

And the tape did stop. Stabler turned to her anxiously. She was staring at the screen, leaning forward, her breath going strained, shivering with excitement. Her blond hair fell forward into her face, framing it. Her lips moved, seemed to repeat something over and over again until her voice added to the moves and Stabler could hear what she was muttering.

"You can swear as much as you like."

Still she was staring at the monitor where the black and white picture of a man entering Carmel Ridge was frozen. Finally Stabler looked at it, too. He frowned when he realized that he almost would have missed him. Now he felt the same as Eames not just about the voice but about that face. Then it hit him!

"That's the PI!" he exclaimed. "What's his name again?"

"Kirkpatrick," Eames whispered. "His name's Kirkpatrick."

_Oh my God!_ Suddenly Stabler felt sick to his stomach as he remembered the night at the bar. _He was trying to lure me into his bed! What the hell did he plan to do?_ He felt bile rise as his stomach continued to rumble unpleasantly.

"We just identified him," she whispered tonelessly.

He stood petrified.

"What's wrong?" Eames asked. When she realized that he would not answer, she stood and left the office, leaving him to stare at the screen.

She padded over to her desk as if she was in trance. Barek was the first who spotted her and at once worry boiled up in her. She stood and rushed to Eames' side.

"Alex? You're okay?" she asked, knowing quite well that her colleague and friend was not okay. She was driven solely by the fear for her partner.

Eames nodded. "Yes, I am," she mumbled. But she did not sound as if she was convinced by what she said.

Deakins also came over from his office.

"You look like a ghost…"

"I… just need a minute," Eames murmured, pushing her office chair into position to drop down in it. "Then we'll have a lot of work…" her voice trailed off.

"Oh yeah? What will we…?"

"Name's Leland Kirkpatrick," Stabler said. After the first shock he had gathered his thoughts and followed her. "He's a P.I. in Atlanta."

"You mean the guy who was searching for Julia Cornwell-Brooks?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, that's the bastard."

For almost a minute dead silence fell over the squad room.

"Did he mention where he was staying at here in New York?" Logan wanted to know, looking at his colleagues expectantly. They shook their heads.

"Okay," Deakins said. "Benson, you'll check on the hotels. Logan, you and Barek try to get as much information as possible about Leland Kirkpatrick."

"What can I do?" Eames asked.

"You and Stabler will go to the crib and get some sleep." Deakins' voice remained calm but his features were stern and made it obvious that he was adamant about his decision.

"But, sir…!" Eames tried to fight. She did not want to go to sleep when they could finally make some progress.

"You'll have enough to do when we'll evaluate the information we'll gather. So, get some rest as long as you can."

Eames looked defeated, but actually she was too damned tired to argue with her captain.

Stabler did not say a word, just exchanged a look with his partner. Benson nodded. She would come and get him as soon as they find something important.

"C'mon, let's go, Alex," he encouraged his colleague.

Reluctantly she went with him.

Logan sighed, settled down at his desk and reached for the phone to get in touch with the Atlanta police department.

Benson searched for a list of hotels to get to the unpleasant task to call them all to find a trace of the private investigator.

And Barek started to do a background check on Kirkpatrick.

This way they all would be busy for the next couple of hours.

"No," Barek suddenly sighed. She was staring at the screen of her computer monitor and let her pen drop on the tabletop.

"What's wrong?" Logan asked and she gestured for him to come over.

When Logan stepped beside her, Benson, who also had heard her, approached from the other side. All three of them stared at the monitor.

"Nooooo," Logan grumbled.

Benson just frowned at first. "Why didn't we check him earlier?" she finally mumbled.

"Because we had no reason to," Barek admitted. "And because we were pretty busy chasing a serial killer."

From the monitor a Caucasian male in his late forties smiled at them. Barek had found his homepage where he offered information about his one-man private investigator office.

But the man on the picture was not the man they got to know as Leland Kirkpatrick.

xxx

**unknown location**

Goren awoke on the hard cold ground he was kind of getting used to.

Yet, something was different. When he shifted his position he sensed that he was not lying directly on it. There was a thin blanket thrown on the concrete that protected his skin from the rough surface.

He felt sick. Pain waved through his entire body.

Next time he tried to move he felt that he was bound. Both his wrists were stuck in broad shackles. Surprised he noticed that his wrists were wrapped with thin bandages.

Another, awful, pain directed his attention on his foot. Just one glance at the bandage reminded him of what Kirkpatrick had done to him.

And that brought back everything else:

_It had been a short lived victory. The moment he had hit his captor he thought that he might have killed him and almost felt remorse._

_But as soon as he was out, he was scared to death._

_Scared that the killer might only be unconscious. Scared that he would come after him at anytime soon. Scared that he might ruin his, presumably, only chance to escape._

_Then he found the cell phone and scented a way to get in touch with Alex._

_A way out!_

_He knew there had to be a stairwell. When he found it he was surprised how steep it really was. He stumbled up on it and out into blinding light._

_All he could feel were the burning sun and twigs that stung his feet and snapped against his body like whips. Then he found the van and cursed himself that he did not try to find the car's keys._

_Still the cell phone could not connect. He was about to panic when he finally heard it ring._

_And when he heard her voice his heart skipped a beat. Then it started to beat faster, feeling as if he would get a heart attack. So he really did not care if she could hear his desperation and anxiety. All he wanted was her to come as fast as possible and get him out of this nightmare._

_And then he felt the cold steel against his head._

It was not the threat of the muzzle, promising death, that scared him, because he knew that he would go through seemingly endless suffering before that happened. This guy would not let him go that easily.

It was the loss of his contact to Eames that broke him down.

That was the worst thing of being incarcerated again.

He had been out. He had felt free. He had heard her voice.

_He has taken that from me. He just should have shot me._

His miserable thoughts choked him up. The pain in his foot was bearable as long as he did not move. He just had to flex a muscle and he grimaced with pain and fought down rising bile.

_I made it! I knocked him out and got out of the cellar!_ He swallowed. _Why the hell didn't I put the chains on him? Why didn't I look for the keys? Why not… something?_

Torturing himself with recalling the memories of his almost-escape, he lay on his side and tried not to move. Each time he moved an unbearable pain pierced his foot as if the nail was still stuck in it.

_Eames said she was driving,_ he thought. _I just hope she could stop without problems, could get back to 1PP. I hope someone helped her._

He remembered the scene in the closet.

_Mike and Caro will take care of her. She's not alone. And where the job is concerned they have the support of Benson and Stabler, too. Well, I think they will do more than just work with them. They'll try to support them in every way they can. They're quite compassionate and caring people. They will try to help in every respect._

All he could do was to lie and wait.

Wait for his captor's return.

Wait for his future killer's next game.

Wait for his colleagues to make the right connections and find Kirkpatrick's hideaway.

When he just moved his arms a fraction to release the strain on his muscles a bit, the chain attached to his cuffs was clanking. A clear reminder of what the killer had taken from him.

Goren took a deep breath and tried to fall asleep again. _I should rest as long as I can... because he won't remain this considerate,_ he thought, taking in once more the sight of the shackles. _Next time he's back, he will have new ideas how to torture me, more wicked games and finally…_

He could not finish this thought. He had been close to death when he had been out. Out in the fields he would not have minded because he was so damned tired and hurt so much. But he did not want to die in here. He did not want to give the guy this satisfaction.

_I got out once… I'll find another way._

But he did not know how he could find enough strength to go on until he got another opportunity. _If_ he got an opportunity at all. Right now he was quite discouraged and the prospect of more games and pain did nothing to soothe him.

_How does he know so much about me? It's creepy. I guess he knows some things and guesses the others, but… those letters for example… Where did he find those letters? He must have been digging through my past… just like Nicole did…_

_Nicole!_

_Pure coincidence that she turned up during this case? What did she say? Love can build a bridge… that sounded as if she knew something about our bad guy. Maybe their paths crossed. It's not that unlikely._

That led him to something else.

_Where did he dig? When he came to us he claimed to be a PI. If he actually investigated my past, including talking with my few friends. _A picture of Lewis, working on a car rose. _Lewis. Damn, he would be pissed if he knew how stupid I reacted, how I freaked myself out instead of trying to hotwire the van. Haven't we worked on enough cars together? Then who else could I embarrass except Lewis? There are just a few, including Eames and Logan and…_

_Mom!_

A chill ran down his back.

_My mom! If he went to my mom, too? No, someone at Carmel Ridge would have told me. She would have told me… or maybe she wouldn't. Depends on what he told her who he was._

Then it struck him.

_Maybe… but that certainly was not the first time she thought that someone was in her room, rearranged things, spied on her… all parts of her delusions._ He took a deep breath. _And if it was no delusion this time? If he really was there? Talking to her! Maybe touching her!_

Rage built inside of him with this thought.

_How dare he go to my mother?! Sick bastard!_

It had just been a spark, but now the fire of rage burnt hot in him, fuelling his resistance.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Eames lay on a bed in the crib and tried to fall asleep. But sleep did not come. Still the voice of her partner echoed in her ear.

_Dammit! Why the hell was I driving when he called? Why couldn't I still be in Carmel Ridge or back here?_

Even though it was not her fault that she could not trace the call at once, she could not stop torturing herself with that.

_Bobby! I can't imagine how horrible it must be to be recaptured by him. You tricked him and got out and now you're back in your prison!_ She deliberately avoided thinking about the possibility that he was dead. The last thing she heard, the shot, was not necessarily his death. _It must be devastating for you. Oh, I wish I could help you!_

She yawned widely.

_I know that I should sleep. I'm not a big help when I'm about to fall asleep every second._

Rolling over on her side, determined to sleep now, her gaze fell on the bunk next to her.

Stabler lay on his back, eyes closed, but his brows furrowed. A muscle twitched in the corner of his eye, his jaw ground.

"You brooding?" Eames asked.

"Hmmmm," he grumbled. "I almost was asleep."

"Sorry," she said and pulled her cover tighter.

"Don't mind…" He sounded tired, no wonder after these long hours. "He was in the squad room," he suddenly snarled. "He was right in here… but we didn't know who he was. This scum walked in here bold as brass and talked with us."

"Yeah…" she replied miserably. Her stomach churned with the thought, but then exhaustion and stress finally claimed her and she drifted away to sleep.

"That scum …" Stabler mumbled, but then he had to give in to exhaustion, too.

In the meantime Logan finished a phone call. He put the earpiece down and took some notes. Then his thoughts drifted off.

_Shot! There was a shot! The perp shot!_

It chased a chill down his spine.

_He shot him?_ Logan's insides constricted. _Bobby's dead?_

It was hard for him to believe that. The quirky, know-it-all detective would not be anymore? This was a possibility he was not willing to accept. Not without proof.

He glanced over at his partner who was researching on the web. She already had printouts piled up on the side of her desk. He sighed.

On his back he felt the stares of his co-workers. Goren was not easy to work with, but his colleagues viewed him with some grudging respect. Being the one who had to deliver the news to the squad that they lost the trace, he, Logan, now was the one they put the blame on.

_Pull yourself together, Logan,_ he scolded himself. _Don't pity yourself, think of him and what he's going through. And now go on!_

So he grabbed the phone again to make the next call.

xxx

**Forensic laboratories**

**1 Centre Street**

"Hey, Stella. Did we give blood samples relating to the scene of Detective Goren's abduction to tox screening?"

"You should ask Lindsay," Bonasera answered. "She worked the scene."

"Okay."

So Messer left the lab where he had been working on the photo album of Frances Goren and walked over to the office where Lindsay was working on files. She looked up when he entered the room.

"Hey, Danny. What's up?"

He showed her the report a messenger just had brought to him.

"You took a blood sample at Detective Eames' apartment?"

"Oh, yes. She said she felt so groggy… She looked it, too, so I offered to check it for her," Lindsay confirmed. "The report finally is back? What's the result?"

She took the folder and looked at the printouts. Then she nodded.

"I gotta talk with her," she said. "I'll be right back."

And with that she turned on her heels and rushed out of the office down the hall.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"C'mon, let's talk," Logan said to Barek across their conjoined desks, and turning to Benson who sat at Goren's place, "We need to compare what we got."

"When we're going to sum up what we have gathered so far, one of us should go get Alex and Elliot," Benson said, remembering the look her partner had exchanged with her. She knew all too well how pissed he would be if she did not come to wake him and was sure that the same applied to Alex Eames.

"I'll go," Barek offered, closed her file and hurried up to the crib of Major Case Squad.

A few minutes later she returned with Eames and Stabler on her heels. They looked pretty rough but determined once they entered the office to sit down for the summary of the newest results.

Deakins joined them, too, and sat down in one chair at the table, facing the big board.

"Okay…" Barek said, grabbing her notes and stepping in front of the whiteboard filled with their info. Her partner was not there yet, and one look out of the office confirmed that he was on the phone again. She began anyway, "The real Leland Kirkpatrick was born and raised in Atlanta. Parents were Leonore and Humphrey Kirkpatrick. He was a cop and died in the line of duty, she was a florist, died five years ago in a car crash. Leland has no siblings. His youth has been uneventful, he graduated high school, joined the army and later Atlanta PD. After ten years on the force he left to become a private investigator and has had his own office since then."

"Up until he dropped off the map a few weeks ago," Logan added, entering to join Barek in front of the board. "And the guy smiling from his homepage was the real Leland Kirkpatrick and not someone advertising for him, so we can exclude him as a suspect and can assume that he is one more victim of our bad guy. I've spoken with Leland's former captain in homicide. He said that he was a calm and cautious detective."

"Was?" Olivia questioned.

"Was," Logan nodded. "He was found just two days ago."

"Dead," Deakins mused.

"Yeah."

"C'mon, partner," Barek complained. "Spill the beans!"

She was a little irritated that he had let her waste her breath telling them all about the real Leland Kirkpatrick when he was already out of the picture. Now they needed the facts of his demise so that they could figure out where to go from there.

"Okay, okay!" He raised his hands defensively. "When I spoke with his former partner, he told me that he still maintained a close friendship with Leland, but had not talked with him for weeks now. He obviously was not home, either. So he started to search for him in his spare time. He found human remains in the woods outside of Atlanta which are not identified yet."

"But he assumes that it is his friend Leland?" Stabler asked.

"Yeah. He's sure to recognize the remains of the clothes, but the DNA result's not back yet, so it can't be confirmed."

"And how long's the body been there?" Barek pushed.

"For weeks… as I said, the ME's results aren't available yet."

"So our guy killed Kirkpatrick because he wanted to take over his identity?" Stabler dug deeper.

Logan nodded. "He claimed to be Kirkpatrick when he came to see us and may have used this identity to lure his victims into his trap, too."

"So we also have to assume that our perp was in Atlanta at some time," Eames mused.

"Yes, we have to," Logan replied. "Actually the real Kirkpatrick _was_ asked to try and find Julia Cornwell-Brooks, as our perp claimed. Someone reported to his client by mail one week ago."

"When the killer already was in New York," Barek wondered.

"And Kirkpatrick was already dead," Logan added.

"So far I couldn't find a trace of him checking the hotels," Benson threw in.

"And you probably won't unless our bad guy checks in as Kirkpatrick," Logan said

"So, why the hell didn't you tell us all this sooner?" Elliot growled. "We've been wasting time checking up on a dead man!" Obviously he hadn't gotten enough sleep to do him any good.

"Relax," Mike said, straining to remain patient. "I only got off the phone with his partner when we gathered here. I didn't have anything to tell anyone before then."

Elliot had the good grace to look contrite. He sighed tiredly and offered a frustrated, "Sorry."

Mike accepted the apology with a nod.

"Okay, so we assume that the dead man is Kirkpatrick and that our perp killed him," Eames thought aloud. "Where's the connection?"

"Hmmm…" Logan turned and pinned up a printout with a newspaper clipping on the board. "That's it," he said. "Kirkpatrick was investigating a string of murders in Atlanta. A relative of one of the victims hired him because the homicide division made no progress." He paused to look at his notes. "He was working together with another PI in this case, a guy from San Diego. I called his office and left a message. Still waiting for him to call me."

"And where's the connection to San Diego?" Barek wanted to know.

"Well, I wanted to try and find that out by talking with the other PI," Logan smirked.

"Excuse me?" a voice came from the door. "Detective Eames?"

Craning her neck, Eames looked at the woman at the entrance.

"Oh, yeah, Detective Munroe," she replied. "What's up?"

"I have the results you asked me for," Munroe answered her.

"Then spit it out."

Munroe hesitated for just a second, glancing at the other detectives. "Okay. The tox screen revealed that there was Rohypnol in your blood, too."

All their gazes were directed on the CSU detective. They stared at her incredulously.

"So that's what he did in my apartment…" Eames murmured. "He prepared something with the Rohypnol... you should try to find it."

"Okay," Munroe confirmed and accepted Eames' spare key. "We'll inform you as soon as we get something… and I'll make a copy of that for you."

"Thank you, Munroe."

She warded it off, and went back to work.

"I wonder what he put it in," Eames mumbled, confused. "He could not know for sure that I would eat or drink whatever he prepared."

"Munroe will find it," Barek said. She eyed her colleague skeptically. "Do you want to sleep at my place?"

"You think I'll sleep somewhere besides the crib?" Eames asked incredulously. "Not as long as he's missing!"

"So, what are we doing next?" Barek wanted to know. "We need to know what Kirkpatrick was working on and how it's related to our case."

"Well, we should dig deeper into this serial killing in Atlanta and find out if there are any similarities with the MO here," Stabler said. "Maybe it's the same guy who committed both strings."

Benson nodded thoughtfully, Eames raised a brow doubtfully.

"Logan!" Detective Donovan appeared under the door. "Telephone for you, line four."

"Thanks, Don."

Logan left to take the call.

"So what are we going to do now?" Barek asked. "We need a new strategy."

Everyone remained silent. Eames watched Logan talk on the phone. It did not take long and he returned to their conference.

"That was one Andrew Jackson Simon, Esquire," Logan explained to them. "He said that he's the brother of Richard Simon who was working the case of the serial killer in Atlanta together with the real Leland Kirkpatrick. And he said that his brother will take the next plane to New York, to meet us tomorrow morning."

xxx

**South Street**

**Manhattan**

_Okay, there we'll go,_ he thought, sitting in his car and watching the entrance of the building the _New York Ledger_ was based in. Right at this moment the man whom he was waiting for stepped through the doors, vanishing from sight.

So he picked up the carefully sealed envelope from the passenger seat, checked in the rearview mirror and got out of the car.

_He's here now._

The thought excited him.

_He'll have work to do,_ he grinned at himself. _The deadline's close…_

Spotting a boy standing at a news kiosk reading in a comic book, he walked over.

"Wanna earn twenty bucks?" he asked cordially.

"Sure," the boy replied.

"Good," the vendor grumbled, "then you can buy that comic when you get back!"

The man remained unimpressed and focused on the boy.

"Okay… here's an envelope. Please take it up to the Ledger and make sure that Theo Mannion really gets it, okay. I give you ten now, ten when you come back. Deal?"

"Deal," the boy answered enthusiastically. Then he plucked the offered bill out of the man's gloved hand.

"Good man," he said. "Now remember, make sure you give it to Theo Mannion in person."

_There he goes,_ he thought. _And I'll go, too. My guest's waiting for me._

He chuckled, vicious sparks dancing in his eyes.

_This will give you an idea of how stupid you are… while I'm going to play a bit with my prize._ Once more he chuckled as he returned to his car. Then he vanished in the heavy New York traffic.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

When Eames returned to her desk she discovered an envelope there. It was just a common envelope and when she picked it up, she felt a thin hard object inside. The even handwriting on it read: _Eames._

"Hey, guys!" she shouted, pointing at the envelope. "Has anyone seen who put this on my desk?"

Everyone was looking at her. Most of her colleagues shook their head. Others mumbled _no_ or _sorry_.

"What's the question?" Detective Dillard asked, coming in right at this moment.

"The envelope…," Eames said. "Did you see where…?"

"Yeah, it was handed in for you downstairs."

"Thanks…"

So she put on gloves, not to ruin possible prints, and slit the envelope open and the slim case of a DVD fell into her hand. "What…?" A slip of paper fluttered to the floor. Eames caught it and read the note on it. Paling she sank into her office chair. Then she grabbed for the phone.

"Hello, Munroe?" she asked, "good you're still there. Can you come up to our squad room again? I have something more to be checked, dusted for fingerprints."

She waited for the CSU detective to show up. Munroe powdered the disc, but there were no prints. So she cleaned it and took envelope and note with her for further examination.

Eames got up and strode over to the captain's office.

"Captain? I found something on my desk," she said, holding up the disc. "I think we should have a look at it."

"Okay… get the others." He went to the other task room where the TV, tape recorder and DVD player stood and started the equipment. When the detectives entered the room he settled down in a chair next to Logan. Stabler leaned against the glass wall to the squad room.

"I just received this short message and a DVD," Eames said and took the disc out of its case. "The note reads: _Don't keep searching. You won't find him. And as it comes to you, Detective Alex, you should be relieved to know that he agreed to take your place._"

Barek gasped. As she turned she saw a concerned expression on Deakins' face, too, which quickly changed to anger.

"That son of a bitch," he said. "How can he dare send us a message like this?"

Staring grimly at the TV, Eames inserted the disc in the player and the DVD started.

The image on the screen was in shades of green and grainy due to the special night vision technique. But it was definitely clear enough for Eames, Barek, Logan, Benson, Stabler and Deakins to recognize their fellow detective.

"Bobby," Eames breathed. She was torn between backing off and touching the screen but did not move at all.

None of the six was able to look away. Wordlessly they stared at Goren, standing in the middle of the room, naked, gagged, his wrists bound with cuffs and chains over his head. Every wall was peppered with different kinds of shackles and chains which were glowing in a sinister way. But the worst were the moans and pleadings of a woman that echoed out of the speakers. Suddenly the moans exploded in a terrible scream and Goren flinched.

Benson reacted to a sharp breath beside her, when she turned to see Eames, pale as chalk, going rigid. The detective wasn't able to take another breath. She paled even more and her eyes rolled up. Benson grabbed her colleague's arms to prevent her from falling and cautiously guided her to the ground.

"Turn that off, El," she ordered. "Alex? Alex, do you hear me? C'mon, calm down. Take a deeeep breath… That's fine. Okay, calm down… Good."

Eames found herself sitting on the floor, her back leaned against a cupboard, Benson in front of her, and for a moment she didn't know how she got there. Then memory hit like lightning and her eyes flooded with tears. At the same time she blushed. She was ashamed to have collapsed in front of her commanding officer.

Benson could see the fear for Goren in her eyes and something else, guilt.

"Don't worry about us," she said and gently stroked her hair. "You were shocked. It's okay."

"That's not…" Eames tried to say.

"That's not what?" Benson asked. "That's not what you meant?"

Eames nodded. She blushed again and looked down at the floor.

"The letter," she whispered. "It said I should be relieved…" Her voice broke.

"You were when you saw what he has done to your partner?" Benson said in a low voice.

Once more Eames nodded. "Just for a split second," she confessed. Now the tears were rolling down her cheeks.

Benson got the cup of water that Logan held next to her and brought it to Eames' lips. The detective took several sips and finally regained some color.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said as she scrambled to her feet. "Won't happen again." New determination illuminated her eyes. "This son of a bitch will regret ever having had the idea to take this up with us."

Deakins chuckled inwardly. Eames expressed what he felt - a growing rage.

"Logan? Will you please go down to the reception to find out how that message made it to Eames' desk," he said. "Maybe we even have a good picture of the guy who handed it in on the security footage."

"CSU already has the envelope and note for examination," Eames said. "These things must be able to tell us their story." Lost in thoughts for a moment she stared at the screen. "Can we watch the disc again?" she asked.

Benson exchanged glances with Stabler.

"I will ask Messer or whoever's there right now to make us a copy. That way they can take their time analyzing it, and we can see what's on it now," Barek declared, getting the disc out of the player. "I'll be right back."

"I'll go with you," Eames decided. "We can watch it at the lab again."

Deakins nodded and the two women left. When they reached the lab they ran right into Stella Bonasera and Danny Messer. They told them what they needed them to do and gave Bonasera the disc.

"Danny's your man for this," she said and handed him the DVD.

"Okay, ladies, come with me." Messer led the way to the video lab.

Eames sat down in a chair next to Messer, Barek stood right behind her. Putting the disc in a player, Messer adjusted some controls. He started the film but reduced the volume when the screams waved out of the speakers. Even now they sent shivers down the spines of both the detectives.

"Why do these chains glow in the dark?" Eames asked.

"Probably he dyed them with fluorescent paint. Like the stars or snowflakes you can stick to the window, it stores light-energy and glows in the darkness."

Eames let his words sink in. Something troubled her.

"That would possibly mean that these chains are all that he can see," she said when realization dawned.

"I think so, yes," Messer affirmed.

She felt a tight knot in her stomach. _Psychoterror_, she thought. _Except for his reaction to the screams he seems to be okay. At least it doesn't look like he's injured_.

The screen went black.

"That's all he recorded," Messer said. "I've extracted the sound. Let's see what we can do with it."

She looked at Messer. He concentrated only on his task and when he spoke he did it in a professional, unconcerned way.

"I think I've heard three different voices."

Messer was working with a sound program on the computer. After a few minutes he had different tracks on the monitor which showed the characteristics of the voices.

"I can confirm that," he said. "All of them alto and soprano. I try and test if there are other sounds, too."

Eames watched in awe how fast the forensic expert was working with the different items. The sounds were changing, until a totally new track was audible.

Something was flapping and rumbling.

"A ventilation system I guess," Messer said.

Fast breaths, the clanking of some chains, a soft moan from Goren. That was all.

"I guess it's somewhere underground." Messer changed some adjustments and played it again. "Yes, it is."

"How do you know?" Eames was curious.

"It's in the volume of the sounds. The way they are reflected," he answered. "I would guess that these concrete walls are thick and there's probably a steel door - perhaps a cellar, a basement, a pit or a bunker."

_Something very lonely, very dark and very isolated. Something unsuspicious or long forgotten, _she thought and sighed.

"We will evaluate the other items and call you."

Eames felt a hand on her forearm. As she turned she saw Barek, smiling encouragingly, warm compassion in her eyes.

"We will find him," she said.

* * *

tbc… 


	20. Chapter 19

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hey, folks. Thanks for your reviews. I'm sooooo sorry it took so long. First I was stuck, then I got distracted by something else, then I was stuck again, add the holidays… well, here it finally is. Happy New Year!

**1****9**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

In the middle of the night a man appeared at the door of the Major Case bullpen. He just stood there for a second before he strode confidently over to the bullpen where Deakins still was seated at his desk.

"Hey!" Logan threw a paperclip at his partner. "Barek! Wasn't that Theo Mannion?"

She glanced over at the captain's office and nodded.

"Yup."

"What's he doing here at this time?" Logan wondered. "And I hope that the _Ledger_ won't print more stupid stuff about the killer we're chasing."

"We can't prevent that," Barek mused. "I'm more curious what's driving him to show up here."

Logan leaned back in his chair and watched through the glass walls how Deakins was talking with the reporter. Then he saw him get up and approach the door. Time to turn back to work. A moment later Deakins appeared beside the desk.

"Mr. Mannion has to tell us something," Deakins declared.

"What is it?" Stabler wanted to know. He and Eames also had wondered what the man wanted from them.

"Tonight I got an envelope," Mannion said. "A boy brought it up, said, the man who gave it to him told him to only deliver it to me personally."

"And that was in it," Deakins added grimly, holding out a picture… of Goren.

They all stared at the photo, some of them agape.

"Don't tell me that that will be in the news tomorrow!" Eames panted.

"You can't print that!" Logan growled. "That's…"

"Unfortunately…" Mannion was about to say, but was cut off.

"What are you trying to say? That it's already in print?" Eames yelled. She could not rein herself in. Her fury needed an outlet.

"Captain! We'll need a restraining order!" Logan shouted. "We can't let them publish that!"

"You know that that's impossible, Detective," Deakins tried to calm him down. "Not even the court can order them not to print."

"Mr. Mannion!" Eames pleaded. "Don't do that!"

"Unfortunately my boss has decided to use it for the front page," Mannion told them. "I was getting the picture out of the envelope when he came to ask something, so he spotted it. I had no chance to talk him out of it."

"So now it's your bosses fault!" growled Logan, boxing the man's shoulder. "You couldn't do a thing, huh?"

"Logan!"

But the detective did not care. His captain was of no interest right now.

"You think it's ethical to publish a picture like that?" Logan could not hide his own fury. "You know what you're doing to this detective?"

"Actually Det. Goren is a person of the public life. So it's of stark interest for the citizens of New York to get to know what happened to one of NYPDs best detectives."

"Spare us the shit! You knew what you're doing! You could have delayed it! That's the least that you could have done!" Eames was almost crying with rage and mental pain.

She still held the disturbing picture, pressed it against her chest. How she wished to be with him, to comfort him. He had to be in pain, terrible pain. Eames did not need to look at the photo again. It was burned into her mind like a brand on a calf's skin.

Goren was on his knees, his hands shackled behind his back, the cuffs attached to a chain that pulled up his arms so that he had to bend forward. The picture was taken diagonally from behind, so that the wound in his foot and his exposed buttocks were visible.

"You had no right to do that," Eames whispered. "Human dignity is inviolable. Even you should respect that."

She spat the last words directly into Mannion's face. Then she could not stand his presence any longer and left for the break room.

xxx

**unknown location**

That he still was in terrible pain was nothing that would stop Kirkpatrick.

Goren lay on the thin blanket his captor had given to him, his wrists still shackled. Trying to ignore the droning of the man was no option. If he was not paying attention he received kicks against his limbs. They would not injure him badly, but they were still painful.

And more pain was not what he wanted.

_What is he talking about? I can't concentrate. My foot! It's… horrible. What did he say? I can't let him take advantage. As if I could prevent him from doing anything. Eames._

"Speaking of abuse…" Kirkpatrick changed the subject abruptly. "Your father never acknowledged your presence, did he? After all you've done to gain his interest nothing did work. That hurt, right? That really hurt."

Still Goren refused to answer. He simply did not know what to say. But he could not deny that it _did_ hurt.

"Don't retreat, Bobby," Kirkpatrick scolded, throwing paperclips at him. "You have to face your demons. Ignoring what he has done to you does not make it vanish."

His wicked laughter gave Goren the creeps.

"Well, that's what therapists always tell guys like me, huh? Confrontation is the best way to heal." Once more he laughed. "Your father really was a bon-vivant. He went out, drank, had fun, slept with other women and when he happened to be at home he used you as his whipping boy."

_Don't react_. _Don't give him the satisfaction_. These rational thoughts did not prevent him from feeling more lousy with every word he was forced to hear.

"And your poor mother… She was ill, still is. She could not help herself, let alone you."

This lit up a spark again. _Don't mock my mother!_ When he glowered at Kirkpatrick it just made the man laugh louder.

"Did I hit a sensitive spot again? Your mother? You love her, I know that. You care so well for her. Carmel Ridge is a good institution. She could be treated a lot worse than that. And you don't want her to be treated bad. You want her to be treated like a queen, don't you?"

His taunts did not fail their effect. They pricked Goren's body as well as his conscience.

"She could not protect you! And what are _you_ doing? You feel guilty because you were not able to protect her!" Kirkpatrick teased. "Bobby! You were a kid! How the hell could you have protected her?!"

Somewhere in his distressed mind his logic struggled to fight its way out again._ How does he know all that? When did he collect all this information? He must have started even before he laid hands on the first woman. What was her name again? Damn… I can't even remember her name!_

"Watcha doing, huh?" He bowed down to him, getting into his face. "Fighting yourself? Debating whether you could've saved her? It must have hurt to see her in this predicament, right?"

Once more he got no response.

"I'm not the solo entertainer here, Bobby," he scolded. "You knew that he was treating her like an animal… treated her worse than that."

Goren slightly nodded.

"Yeah. Frank was beating her, right? He beat her, nailed her and cheated on her. And he didn't get her help! He just let her home alone, sometimes locked up!"

Frowning deeply Goren stared up at him.

_Is he confusing something? Did he make it up? To make it worse?_

"You don't remember him locking her up?" Kirkpatrick grimaced, a mask of false compassion. "But you certainly remember him locking _you_ up, huh?"

A shudder washed over Goren. That was something he would never forget in his whole life. It had taught him to welcome darkness, to accept it. Hours and hours alone in their house's cellar had passed slowly, leaving him disoriented. Had it been hours? Had it been days? He could not tell. Once during summer holiday it certainly had been days. His only mean to estimate the time was his grumbling stomach.

"I can see that you remember, Bobby. How did you feel being trapped?"

"I don't know…" he mumbled. "You tell me."

"I?"

"Yeah… how was it when you got locked up?" Goren tried to lock with Kirkpatrick's gaze, but could not find it. The man backed off and was turning to his supplies.

"Why do you think I've ever been shut in?" Kirkpatrick asked back.

"Most of your kind got abused."

"My kind?"

"Yeah… actually there's been no serial killer so far who's not been abused in his youth. We just have to leave open the opportunity when we talk about it."

"There's the profiler talking!" Kirkpatrick laughed. "Do you enjoy yourself?"

Goren just frowned at him.

"I mean, you sure have fun being a know-it-all, right, Bobby? You're so smug about being able to read people… so much that you forget that others can trick you. They make you believe what they _want_ you to believe. They use it against you."

"And with _they_ you mean yourself, right?" Goren was surprised at how clearly his mind seemed to work suddenly. All he knew was that he did not want Kirkpatrick to be so arrogant. He wanted to take him down a peg or two, even if a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered warnings that his captor would only get annoyed if he tried to outsmart him.

"Not only me, Bobby."

_Stop calling me Bobby!_ Goren inwardly screamed. Kirkpatrick's pseudo kindness made him sick.

"You know, there's this guy I copycatted in Atlanta… he told me a very interesting story."

"Who is he?" Goren was forced to play his game.

"Huh?" Kirkpatrick pretended to be distracted, then thinking. "Brady, Mark Ford Brady. He's on death row in Pennsylvania."

Somewhere in the depths of Goren's mind that name rang a chord. Certainly he had heard or read about him before.

"Right now I don't remember him. Tell me something about his modus operandi."

Kirkpatrick laughed out loud.

"Actually that was _not_ what I wanted to talk about," he chuckled. "But we have time, so why not."

Furtively Goren watched him as he took a folding chair to sit in and made himself comfortable. _Shit!_ Goren thought. _I didn't mean that you should make yourself at home here. Just get you focused on professional stuff._

His insides constricted once more.

_If he's getting personal again... why does he have to dig in my past?_

"Okay... Actually I think it's quite interesting to talk about his MO. As you know this tells us a lot about his background." Kirkpatrick leaned back and crossed his ankles. "He's sentenced for the rape and murder of seven women, four of them killed in Pennsylvania. His victims were single moms. Working as a freelance photographer and being very charming he gained their trust, then raped and strangled them."

He fell silent, obviously waiting for Goren to comment on his tale.

But Goren did not feel like talking. He was tired, he was in pain and he was hungry. The last thing he wanted to do was ask this psycho for food or water. So he ignored his hurting stomach. He did not really know if it really hurt with hunger. Maybe he would not even be able to keep food down.

"Sounds like the average serial killer," Goren mumbled.

"Average? I don't think that he's average. He wasn't that easy to copy, you know."

"What's the point? Why are you telling me all this?" He really was fed up with this game.

"Well, Bobby." He saw Goren roll his eyes even as he tried to hide it. "Mark told me an interesting story. It was kind of a thank-you because he felt honored by me planning to copycat him. Years and years ago it happened that he picked a young woman who actually liked it the hard way. He had taken her for a single mom because her husband was so often out of the house, cheating on her. This girl appreciated being taken hard and he fell in love with her."

"Unlikely," Goren mused.

"Huh? Why's that?"

"Serial killers usually are unable to attach emotionally. Maybe he thought that he loved her, but it most likely was a warped sense of admiration that she was able to put up with his demands."

"What do you think happened to them?"

This time Goren groaned. It took an effort to think about this guy. Especially as he did not want to do it. This was not one of his cases, this was a serial killer asking him about a fellow murderer. It made him sick.

Just the way Kirkpatrick leaned forward now, clearly expecting an answer, and the implied threat of punishment if he did not play along made him comply.

"He'd have assaulted her, too, probably killed her. Maybe tried to cover his murder up this time because he felt remorse for once."

"That's a good guess!" Kirkpatrick praised. "But only the first part is true. She survived his attack, but she would never be the same woman again. Sad, so sad."

_What's the point?_ Goren became annoyed. _It's bad enough that he's playing with me, but that he has to prolong it is the worst part. Just tell me what you want!_

"You have to know that by then, when Mark attacked her, she had a second son. He must have been a real cutie from what I got to hear about him." Kirkpatrick smiled and it seemed to be an honest smile. "Mark said that he always looked forward to stopping by at Bambi's house. That's what he called her, you know, because she had these big dark brown eyes." He paused for effect. "Just like your eyes."

Still Goren could not see any connection Kirkpatrick might want to draw. Maybe he had eyes like that woman, but that was of no significance.

"You can judge yourself, Bobby. I've got a photo of her."

With that he got an old picture out of his jacket and held it out to Goren who ignored it at first. But he sensed the unspoken threat and reluctantly gave in to force and his own curiosity.

As soon as his gaze fell upon the woman on the square photo his blood froze in his veins. Paralyzed he could not do anything but stare at her, standing in front of a five story building with high windows. She wore a checkered coat and skirt with short sleeves. The skirt ended just above the knees and on her dark curls sat a matching bonnet. Under the costume she wore a white blouse with a neckline so deep that it matched the v-neck of the buttoned up jacket. White gloves covered her hands which held her purse in front of her. Her dark brown eyes sparkled as she was smiling into the camera.

"She was a real hottie back then, wasn't she?"

All of a sudden Goren felt dizzy again. The sight of his mother made him queasy. _Where the hell did he get this picture from? And what does it have to do with the current sub… ject._

He stumbled over his own thought.

_He said he has a picture of her. Her! Brady's girlfriend! The one who… liked… it rough!_

He choked.

_Oh my God! He means my mother! He really means my mother! How can he dare…?_ His breath caught in his lungs again and he gasped to fill them with air. _That's not true! _Dad_ was the one cheating on _her

Goren was not able to get any words out. He wanted to contradict him, to scream out his rage about the sheer attempt to tie her with a serial killer. But he could not even sort out his thoughts which were chasing each other.

"She looks happy there," Kirkpatrick said right then. "Must have been because she had the affair with Mark. Do you remember uncle Mark?"

That hit Goren below the belt. He never remembered him… until Kirkpatrick called him _uncle _Mark. _Nooooo!_ He inwardly screamed. _No, no, no, no, no._ His mental pain was visible in his grimace he did not even know he made.

Suddenly Kirkpatrick dropped the friendly façade.

"So it looks like your whore of a mother had a little fun on the side," he sneered, holding another picture up, this one showing Frances and Mark together on the beach. "But I can't blame her seeing how _faithful_ her so-called husband had been. And so she and uncle Mark produced you, their little bastard. Guess that makes you an official bastard. Not only that, but a serial killer for a daddy. How long you think it'll take for those tendencies to come out in you, Bobby?"

Goren was close to tears. He felt them burn in his eyes. They were closing his chest as he tried hard to keep them in. _That can't be true! It can't! Mom! Tell me you've never been… with…_ He choked again. He felt even more miserable as he suddenly remembered something. There had been a weekend she had not been home. It was a weekend he barely could recall. All he actually knew was that she never was the same after this weekend. Soon after she had her first psychotic break and from there she started her slow descent into her schizophrenia.

_Is that what Kirkpatrick was referring to? She went out with Brady and this time he attacked her? Is that what caused the latent schizophrenia in her to break through? That a serial killer raped her? Tried to kill her?_

No matter how hard he tried to keep them to himself, now silent tears were rolling down his cheeks.

He heard cold laughter and then he felt tension on the chain holding his shackles. Even though his foot hurt like hell he had no other choice but to stand up. His arms stretched over his head he stood once more in his chains.

Yet again he heard his captor's cruel laughter, then the door fell shut.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**  
**Major Case Squad**

"Elliot?" Eames addressed her SVU colleague. "Will you come with me? We have this appointment with the lawyer, Mr. Simon."

Twenty minutes later they entered the reception of Mr. Simon's office suite. The secretary was on the phone, talking to someone at court. She looked briefly up to the badges Eames and Stabler flashed and gestured them to go into an office to the left.

Before they could walk in the door opened and a man in his fifties, dressed in a dark blue suit strode out. His thick shock of hair was still a bright blond and his blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

"Isabel, has Ryan agreed to take charge of the Kessler case?" he addressed his secretary. She nodded. "Thanks. I don't know when I will be back... so, will you please arrange new appointments for Mrs. Bannister and Mr. Iles?" Once more she nodded and he turned to the police officers. "Detective Eames?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "This is Detective Stabler."

"A. J. Simon." They shook hands. "At first we were surprised that you called Rick's office in San Diego, because he already was on his way to New York. My brother wanted to convince me that this is the same guy we were chasing before. If you will follow me…"

He opened the door and took the lead. "Hmmm, my brother isn't the very diplomatic type, so don't be surprised if he seems to be grumpy. He knows tons about this guy, but still not enough to catch him. Wanted to work the case alone, but before I had a chance to try and convince him otherwise you contacted him. What led you to him, Detective?"

"Another victim we could link," Eames simply said. She did not want to discuss this now.

A. J. led them down two corridors, pulled out some keys and entered another suite which was obviously used for storage.

"Rick?" he shouted. In the room to the right someone was groaning. "Rick?"

Eames and Stabler followed him into this room and were surprised to find a lean man, nearly sixty, in cowboy boots and hat, jeans and striped western shirt, sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes with files.

"Rick?" A. J. said once more, now with a hint of impatience in his voice. "These are the Detectives Eames and Stabler. Detectives, my brother, Rick Simon."

"Hi, Detectives," Rick greeted, just shortly looking up and tipping the brim of his hat. He continued to flip through the files in the box in front of him. "So, you're here to talk to me 'bout these murders?" he asked.

"Mr. Simon…"

"Naah." He looked up. "Call me Rick."

"Okay, Rick. We've called you because we learned that you have…"

"Information bout the murders you're investigating," he interrupted Stabler. He didn't even flinch under the dead glare the detective gave him. "I don't think that you're on the right track, or are you?"

"Still trying to be the wise guy, hm?" A. J. deflected. "Take this serious, okay?"

"I am, little brother," Rick shot back. "Just…"

"…trying to get yourself into trouble," A. J. finished his sentence. "Try to be polite. These detectives honestly want to know what you have to say."

"News to me," he mumbled, looking down. "I mean, you'd be the first ones who'd be interested."

"If you have any information about the murders it actually would be obstruction," Stabler said, a sharp edge on his voice.

Before the detective could continue with a threat, Rick warded off with a throwing gesture and picked a file out of the box to spread it open on top of the others. There were several photos of crime scenes, showing the bodies of several people in different age, fully dressed, almost chopped to pieces.

"Copycat of the Axeman-of-New-Orleans, 1918-19," he explained without request. "This string of murders took place in 1984 in Austin."

Rick shoved the papers back together and held the file up to A. J. as he picked up another one. "Copycat of the Joe-Ball-murders, Texas, 1938. These were committed in San Diego, 1988. That was when we started to investigate. This is the copycat of the R. A. Berdella-murders, 1984-88, this the Hillside-Stranglers, L.A., 1977-79…" He reached for the fifth file.

"Stop it," Stabler ordered him. "Is this why we're here? Because of old murder cases?"

"In 1988 a young woman came to our office," A. J. said. "She was missing her sister. Unfortunately she was one of the victims of the Ball-Copycat. The killer was never found."

"And now he's here," Rick added, pointing to the wall behind the detectives.

Eames and Stabler turned and were confronted with photos of every single victim, their record and clippings out of newspapers.

"Has he taken an eighth woman?" Rick asked.

"It's no concern of yours."

Stabler was in a bad mood. Sideways Eames glanced at him.

"Just let him talk, Elliot," she said.

"Well," A. J. continued. "I finished law school and moved to New York, while Rick stayed in San Diego."

"Still am a private investigator," he threw in. "Black sheep of the family."

"At least a child in a grown man's body," A. J. snapped. "Then, in 1992, Rick called me to ask if I could assist in investigating a string of murders in Hawaii. He suspected that it was the same killer who murdered our client's sister in San Diego, in 1988."

"Since then we have trailed him several times," Rick picked up the thread. "Now I believe he's here in New York."

"Any proof for your theory?" Eames asked. "Do you have evidence?"

"There are several leads. I think the guys in Las Vegas found DNA samples. But there was never a suspect identified to be compared with them. Do you have any genetic evidence?"

Neither Eames nor Stabler answered that question. They looked at the wall filled with information about the murders in New York in silence. Then Eames looked at the pile of files with the old material.

"This locust," Rick said following her gaze, "he moves from town to town. At first he copycatted famous murderers. Then he also copycatted murderers from movies or novels. This is the first time he's not copying. But you can still see the same kind of development. Each time he starts a new string of murders he seems to be uncertain, trying, a _rookie_. Then he develops his MO, meaning the copycatted MO. And then he's gone."

"That's very atypical," Eames muttered. "Normally a serial killer doesn't have this kind of control over his actions."

"Who said this guy's normal?" Rick asked. "And you can bet he's older than you think. If he'd really started in the eighties the estimated age in your profile, around 25 to 35, is way too young."

"Besides, this guy might be responsible for other killings that don't belong to any of these strings," A. J. contributed. "Until now no one was able to link them, but it's possible that these killings are the counterbalance for the unusually controlled strings of murder."

"The counterbalance?" Stabler asked.

Rick and A. J. exchanged glances. Then Rick fumbled another file out of the box and held it up to the two detectives. Stabler accepted it and opened the lid. A photo was attached to the report held in the folder. Stabler had seen a lot while being with the NYPD, but this was especially awful – a slaughter feast.

Eames paled visibly as she looked at the photo, too. To Stabler it was obvious what she had in mind: Goren, murdered the same way.

"That's no proof at all," he said softly touching her shoulder encouragingly. "There's still a chance. Don't quit, okay?"

She shook her head. "I won't quit until we have proof – positive or negative."

"We will need your records," Stabler said to the two brothers.

"No problem." Rick put the files back into the box.

"I have cancelled all my appointments today. We can both accompany you to fill you in with the facts we have," A. J. proposed.

Both the detectives nodded in agreement.

xxx

**unknown location**

Wrapped in pain Goren stood in his chains, waiting for whatever might come. The news Kirkpatrick had broken to him were disturbing and he could not stop thinking about them. They were swirling through his mind making him as dizzy as the physical pain did.

_Mom! Is that true? Were you together with Mark Brady?_

While his eyes were open he stared at the opposite wall. When he closed them he saw his mother in the checkered suit, young, pretty, adventurous. Then he saw her together with the man who now was on death row and his insides churned once again while his heart beat and his throat was corded up.

_I can't believe it! I don't want to believe it! Please tell me that it isn't true!_

He could not recall ever having felt as miserable as he did now in his whole life. This might destroy him… provided that he survived his ordeal.

Hearing the door he swallowed another sniffle, not wanting Kirkpatrick to hear it. He also avoided looking at him. Only furtively Goren watched him arrange several items which looked suspiciously medical. The guy was handling needles, syringes and bags the kind you used to store up blood. He was sure that he would not like whatever Kirkpatrick was going to do to him.

"Okay, Bobby," Kirkpatrick murmured. "That won't hurt, at least not much." Looking over at him he smirked. "Not compared to your punishment for running away, anyway."

The tension of the chains reduced. Goren let his arms drop. He slightly swayed.

"Don't you even think of it," Kirkpatrick said acknowledging the fury that showed on Goren's face. "Kneel down. C'mon, Bobby!" he insisted. "Get down on your knees or I'll do it for you."

He was behind him, ready to kick into the hollows of his knees. Slowly Goren obeyed the order. Now he was in the same position as before, just not on his feet but on his knees.

"Well, well. Let's get finished with this." Kirkpatrick put down a tray with the medical objects next to his prisoner.

Goren stared at the opposite wall. There were the chains. In the bright light they did not appear creepy at all. What gave him the creeps now were the needles and the other stuff Kirkpatrick was fumbling with. Everything connected with medicine in any way gave him the creeps. Memories of his mom's delusions rose… he had been sick and the doctor prescribed some medications for him, his mom later mixed up… and had him admitted to the hospital. When her illness proceeded, she also tried to _cure_ him without the help of a doctor at all.

When he felt a touch to his right wrist he looked up. The cuff opened as well as the shackle. All of a sudden his arm was free. He let it drop. It felt numb. But it was free…

"Here we go…" Kirkpatrick murmured. He grabbed Goren's wrist and lifted it up to insert one of the needles into the forearm. He didn't succeed. The speed in which Goren wriggled his arm free caught him by surprise. He got a blow in the back and was grabbed around the neck.

Ignoring the flaring pain in his foot, Goren jumped up and pressed his right arm over Kirkpatrick's throat. An elbow hit him hard at the side but he did not let go. With his left he could get hold of Kirkpatrick's left arm. The man kicked and threw himself backwards in an attempt to get him off balance. With his right Kirkpatrick tried to grab Goren's hair and hit him hard on the temple. Then he let himself fall.

Almost as big as Goren, round six foot three but stout, he counted on his weight to be too much to hold for the detective. He was right. Goren had to let go. Kirkpatrick fell and rolled over his shoulder to be on his feet a second later. Just for another second his stare locked with Goren's. Then he bent down and picked up a chain from the floor to pull with full strength. As it was tightened it came up behind Goren. Too fast for the detective to avoid it. It pulled his legs away under his body.

Goren would have smashed to the ground but his fall was caught by the chain which still held his left wrist. As he fell into the bond with his whole weight pain shot from his shoulder through every fiber of his body as the joint was dislocated. He screamed out in agony.

A cruel grin distorted Kirkpatrick's features as he looked down at Goren.

The detective struggled to somehow support himself with his right arm. All color had drained from his face. Tears of pain which he was unable to suppress trickled down his cheeks. He flinched as he felt a hand dragging his left ankle to the left, stretching his leg and ruining his already unstable balance. A shackle closed and the attached chain was locked to a ring in the floor with a padlock. The same was done to his right leg. And still he was hanging from the chain hardly able to support himself with his right arm.

Kirkpatrick closed in on him, stood with his legs apart right over him, and grinned widely. He clasped his neck with a brutal grip.

"There was no chance," he whispered. "What you did was not only unnecessary it was stupid, too." He gloated over the tears glistening on Goren's face. "Heroic but stupid. And now? What shall I do with you, Bobby?" He released Goren's neck.

Without the slightest sign of pity he picked up another shackle and fastened it to Goren's right wrist. If he would pull now… But he did not pull. He just stood there and watched with a satisfied grin that testified to his superiority.

"I won't do anything unless you ask me," he said.

It would not take long. He was relatively certain of that. Grimacing the detective fought for balance and to unburden his arm. He was breathing heavily with abrupt and irregular gasps and pain-risen tears were rolling over his face.

"Ask the million-dollar-question and I'll free your arm," he offered him.

"Take it off," Goren whispered.

"I don't take orders from you!" Kirkpatrick bellowed. "If you want me to open the chain… beg me."

He looked into the tear-flooded eyes. There he could already see it. Pain. Desperation. Begging! All he needed to do was to wait until the detective forced himself to say it. When he did, it was in such a low voice that Kirkpatrick could hardly hear it.

"Sorry, Bobby. What did you say?" His sardonic smile gave away the lie.

"Please." It was barely louder than the first and with a tremor in the voice.

"That was a hard thing to do, wasn't it?" he whispered into Goren's ear. Yet, he grabbed the chain and opened the shackle.

As Goren fell back he cried out again when his shoulder hit the ground. He did not notice that Kirkpatrick shortened the chain that held his right arm, due to the tremendous pain in his left shoulder. Now he lay on his back, his limbs, except for the left arm, spread like the arms of a starfish. Through a veil of tears he saw Kirkpatrick on his right side.

"If you want to come over all heroic, you're messing up with the wrong guy. I won't let you come off cheap. You will come off second-best. But you like messing around, don't you?" He changed his stance steadily and made big gestures as he spoke in parody of his prisoner's usual behavior. "Don't these…" he pointed at the scars on Goren's breast, "… testify to that fact, too?"

He did not get an answer. "How did you get these?"

"Got shot," Goren grumbled.

"_That_ I can see," Kirkpatrick growled. "How did it happen?"

"That's not your business."

Slowly Kirkpatrick nodded. "As long as you are here…" he said calmly, "…_everything_'s my business."

When Goren turned his head away, he grabbed his chin and forced him to look back again.

"You don't get this, Bobby? You're supposed to answer. And look at me when I'm talking to you. I'll ask you just one more time… How did it happen?"

Just for a moment Goren retreated by turning his eyes away. Kirkpatrick could read in his features just how much pain he was in. Then Goren looked him straight in the eyes.

"I was undercover."

"Were you already with major case?"

"No. I was with narcotics."

"Why did they shoot you? Did they regard you as a rival or did they know that you're a cop?"

Goren swallowed. "My cover was blown. Someone recognized me as a cop."

"Poor guy. I'm sure it did hurt." Kirkpatrick released his grip. "I'm glad you made it. Did your partner save you?"

It seemed to be an innocent question but when he observed Goren, he could watch him stiffen up and pale. He frowned.

"Was it him who betrayed you? Did your partner sell you out?"

Goren looked up at him in disbelief.

"Well, I'm a good guesser, am I?" Kirkpatrick asked. "What did he do? Did he literally sell you for money?"

"He was incompetent," Goren whispered.

"Well, then you're lucky now, aren't you?" He smiled at him. "Your current partner neither is incompetent nor will she quit on you."

"Don't you dare speak of Eames in the same course as this rat!" Goren raised his voice.

"Oh. I hit a sensitive spot." Kirkpatrick chuckled. "But we already knew that she's your Achille's heel."

Kirkpatrick knelt beside him and once again Goren's chin felt as if it was stuck in a vice. Kirkpatrick bowed until their faces were just inches apart.

"Now, speaking of Alex, we should make clear once and for all that she's the reason you're here. You wanted to protect her and that's exactly what you did. You sacrificed yourself. Well, okay, you did not know that there were drugs in your coffee but, hey, you did not fight as much as I had expected you to do when I told you about her back in that alley." He saw the brown eyes widen with fear. "If you hadn't given in she would be in your place. Now you have to bear the consequences. You will follow my orders or I'll probably change my mind and take her, too."

He got up and stepped over Goren's body to the other side where he crouched down again.

"Now we should see what we can do for your shoulder. We have to set it back in place before the swelling makes it impossible."

He looked at Goren and laughed at his shocked expression.

"Don't panic, Bobby. I've done this before."

Kirkpatrick noticed with amusement and fascination that Goren took hold of his manacle with his right and tried hard to steady his breath. He had closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to arm himself against the excruciating pain that he knew was coming. Incredulously Kirkpatrick also observed that the tension of the muscles in Goren's shoulder ceased.

_My respect_, he thought. Then he grabbed the arm and set the joint back in place.

The scream was terrifying. Goren reared, arching his back. Then he lay still. He had lost consciousness.

Unimpressed Kirkpatrick took up a needle and continued with his former task. He found a vein and drew blood until the bag was filled. He checked Goren's pulse. Regular and strong. With a few strokes he combed his hair. Then he put some of these hairs into a small plastic bag.

He smiled.

tbc…


	21. Chapter 20

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Even as I thought I could get this chapter done faster than the other… one scene got me stuck again. Thanks to _Bammi1_ for beta-reading and special thanks to _Infinity Star_ for her great advise. To all of you thanks for reading and reviewing… and the patience. LOL Enjoy.

**20**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Eames and Stabler attracted attention when they entered the MCS bullpen in company with the Simon brothers, their arms loaded with boxes containing the case files. They went to the task room Benson and Stabler were sharing. The two SVU detectives stared at them, stunned. Eames put her two boxes onto the table and opened one.

"I think we will need these first," Rick said flipping through his own box.

"What's up now?" Stabler queried indignantly.

It took only seconds for Captain Deakins to appear under the door. "Eames?" Then he spotted someone else he knew. "Mr. Simon. Nice to see you."

A. J. turned to face the newcomer. "Captain Deakins," he said as soon as a name popped up. "The pleasure's mine. I do remember you saying you're in charge of Major Case."

Eames could not help but notice that his behavior switched to the more formal manner of an attorney.

"Alex?" Stabler pushed.

"That's right, Sir," Deakins said. "May I ask you…"

"What led me here?" A. J. smiled. "We hope to be able to support your investigation." With two steps aside he offered Deakins a better sight into the room. "I would like to introduce you to my brother. Rick? This is Captain Deakins. Captain, my brother, Richard Simon."

"Hello, sir," Rick said, touching the brim of his hat in greeting.

"Rick runs a well known office of private investigators in San Diego," A. J. explained. "He came to New York last night because he has reason to believe that a connection exists between one of his cases and the string of murders your detectives are investigating."

A cell phone played _Dixie_ and Rick fumbled it out of its belt-cover. "My office," he said and dove into the far corner of the room.

"Will you tell me what kind of a case you mean?" Deakins demanded to know.

"A string of murders in San Diego, 1988," A. J. gave details. "That was before I finished law school. We were partners and investigated the case together."

"I do remember. You came to New York after you got married, didn't you?"

The lawyer smiled slightly embarrassed."Guilty as charged," he said.

"Folks," Rick made himself heard, "we're not here to discuss our family tree. There's a killer on the loose. We should concentrate on that!"

"He's right," Eames agreed. "We have a lot of work to do." While A. J. and the captain were talking she had picked up the file of the Berdella case. As she spoke she opened it. When she saw the first crime scene photo all blood drained from her face and the file fluttered to the floor. "I-I'll be… right back," she choked and stormed out of the task room, heading for the restrooms.

Barek saw her pass and followed her.

Eames was in the last booth on her knees, vomiting, shaking uncontrollably. Barek knelt down beside her, stroking her back in small circles. She did not try to talk. As she did not know what had upset her colleague so much, it was wiser not to voice reassurances. So she just crooned softly to soothe Eames' pain. When Eames finally ceased to heave, Barek tried to get her to sit in the corner between the booth and the washbowls. There they sat on the floor leaning against the wall, and Barek had her arm around Eames' shoulders.

"Oh, Carolyn, no," Eames whispered. "It's so horrible. I don't know if I can do this. But I have to. I can't let him down, not again, not again... Oh God…" Her voice faded into sobs.

"You want to talk?"

"No. Just don't leave me alone. Stay a moment with me and I'll be back in minutes. Promise."

"Okay," Barek sighed. She gently rubbed Eames' shoulder with her right hand. With the left she held both her hands.

Eames needed some time to regain her composure, or at least a semblance of it, before she tried to get to her feet. Barek helped her up and to clean herself. Then they went back to the bullpen.

In the task room everyone waited for them.

"We did not want to start without you, Detective Eames," A. J. said. He held the file in his hands and Eames flinched when she just read the name on the cover.

"Perhaps we should begin with this case," Rick added, taking the folder from his brother. His voice was low and soothing now. "Because it will show us that this guy isn't just interested in women."

Once more Eames flinched. Still she was pale and she looked like she would puke again anytime.

"Is it okay if I talk about this case?" Rick turned to her. "We could take another one."

"Let's just pretend you never asked that," she warded off indignantly. "Go ahead."

Rick nodded curtly, never showing his admiration of her tough-cop attitude, and went to the whiteboard where he hung up a carefully selected picture of a young man in his twenties.

"This case tells us very much about what this man is capable of. And this photo doesn't originate from any Berdella victim, this guy was killed by our man… we call him the _Locust_."

"The locust?" Barek asked.

"Because he's roaming through all the states. He's probably active abroad, too."

"What makes you believe that?"

"There are unexplained long periods between several strings," A. J. explained. "And as we don't assume that he was in prison for another crime or has stopped, we believe that he was abroad."

"So he copied the Berdella murders," Benson came back to the first topic. "What did he do exactly?"

Questioningly Rick looked at Eames again, but she just scowled at him. _Don't dare to ask. I can take it_, said this stare.

"Berdella was a homosexual sadist. He drugged his victims, tortured and raped them and buried their remains in his garden." Rick paused. "When one guy did escape, wearing only a dog's collar, Berdella was arrested in April 1988. The cops found two corpses and hundreds of photos in his house."

"Photos?"

"He documented his tortures by keeping a diary and making photos of the different stages…" Rick's voice trailed off.

Silence fell. Every single one of them was lost in his or her own thoughts.

"You said he would not copycat this time," Stabler finally stated. "What did you mean exactly?"

"When A. J. told me that a serial killer is on the loose here I searched the internet for information about him. Since I decided that it might be the _Locust_ I did everything I could to figure out who he's copycatting… but I found nothing so far."

"So, that doesn't necessarily mean he isn't copycatting at all," Benson followed the trail.

"Yeah, I can be wrong there." Rick eyed the wall where the information was collected. "What is this?" he asked, pointing to the note that had been taped up there_. "Don't keep searching. You won't find him. And as it comes to you, Detective Alex, you should be relieved to know that he agreed to take your place._ Him? Did he change his MO in the middle of the string?"

The detectives felt uneasy with this question.

"I can distinguish between male and female," Rick said. "Especially as it says so in this letter. Who is _him_?"

They turned to their captain.

"Detective Goren, Eames' partner," Deakins replied softly.

It sent shivers down Eames' spine. She paled again and slowly retreated from the task room.

"And he's being held prisoner right now?" A. J. demanded to know when she was gone, followed by Barek.

"Yes." Reluctantly Logan produced a newspaper.

Taking it from the detective the attorney looked at it thoughtfully, then he handed it over to his brother wordlessly.

"Oh, shit," Rick mumbled. "And he first intended to take Detective Eames?"

"It says so in the note he sent us," Deakins said and prudently kept quiet about the tape they got together with the message.

Rick nodded and thought aloud, "He has played power games before. He likes to mess with the police. Sometimes I tend to believe that this is the main reason he's killing."

"There's something else that's bugging me," Stabler threw in. "The night before we were assigned to cooperate with major case we were called out to a scene with a male victim."

Benson exchanged a glance with him.

"As far as we know the guy was dragged into the alley where he was found later, the killer broke his neck and mutilated the body with multiple stabs and cuts before he cut off his reproductive organs to stuff them into his mouth."

Benson looked at him bewildered. Now he remembered that she did not know the ME's report.

"To top it off he raped him with a bicycle pump."

"Sounds like overkill," Logan said. "But where's the connection to our case?"

"That's what I wanted to discuss with these two," Stabler pointed out to him, then turned to Rick. "Can you show us the file again?"

The PI nodded and began searching. Once he had it he took it out and pinned the scene photo to the wall.

"Olivia?" Stabler asked.

She looked at it thoughtfully. So did all the others.

"This man wasn't killed… he was slaughtered." Benson shuddered. "You think this might be the same guy?"

"Maybe it would be best to let Huang field this question."

"Did I get it right that your squad's still on the other case?" Deakins wanted to know.

"Yes. Detectives Munch and Tutuola are working it."

"Then we should invite them for a brainstorming, too. Will you call them?"

"Yeah, of course."

"There's something that interests me," Logan turned to Rick again. "You said that this man has played power games before. In which way?"

"Sometimes he communicated with the police the same way the guy he copycatted did," A. J. answered instead. "One cop claimed that the killer pretended to be one victim's brother to get information from him."

"You're kidding!"

"No. I've spoken with him. I don't think that he was lying. And several months later the remains of said brother were found."

"So this _Locust_, as you call him, murdered the victim's brother to adopt his identity?" Eames asked. She stood under the doorframe, pale but alert. "Any hints that he did that before or later again?"

"We're not sure."

"Is there any proof that this really is one and the same guy at all?" Deakins still was skeptical.

"No physical evidence. The theory is based on his modus operandi, copycatting other serial killers," A. J. explained.

"Rick," Eames said. "What about Las Vegas? Didn't you tell us that they have DNA?"

Rick nodded.

"Why are you so excited?" Logan asked confused. "We don't have physical evidence."

Thinking hard, Eames crossed her left arm over her chest, supporting the other, right hand over her mouth.

Logan and Barek stared at her incredulously. When Deakins noticed their aghast looks he turned and did the same.

"What?" Now Eames was confused. "I didn't say anything."

"No, you didn't," Barek replied. "And you didn't have to. You just looked like your partner." She bit her lip, but it was already out.

Once more tears shot in Eames' eyes. She choked them back as good as she could.

xxx

**unknown location**

Goren woke up to incredible pain. It centralized in his shoulder and spread through his entire body. He felt dizzy at first but then his mind cleared and the memories flooded back.

_Kirkpatrick, this filthy little piece of shit_.

He remembered how the damned guy was hovering over him, watching him struggle and waiting for him to say the magic word.

Part of him did regret to have begged. The other part suspected that he would not have had the strength to resist any longer.

Some of the lights were still on. He turned his head and saw the bruise in the hollow of his right arm. He thought of the medical equipment, Kirkpatrick had been busy with.

_Can't be any drug,_ he thought. Still he felt dizzy but that was not caused by drugs. _These bags… Has he drawn my blood? Why?_

He was thinking for a moment. _To place phony traces? To make Alex and the others believe that I'm dead?_

It was the only plausible explanation he could imagine.

Reflexively he lifted his right arm to touch the hurting shoulder only to recognize with surprise that the chain was long enough to do so. Then he noticed a piece of paper that lay on his chest. It read:

_I'm no brute. Have something to eat. It might give you the energy to last some hours longer – always hoping and praying your colleagues might find you (chances are 1:99 I guess)._

He crumpled the note and threw it away only to find that the swing of his arm was intercepted by the damned chain.

With some effort he got up into a sitting position. As he did, the chains were clanking and the sound sent shivers down his back. For the first time he could actually see the shackles that enclosed his ankles and the right wrist. His left arm was free but virtually stunned and paralyzed due to the pain in the shoulder.

Slowly he tried and turned away from the cameras. To know that Kirkpatrick was probably watching him right now made him feel sick. He remembered his captor to say, that everything was recorded. This thought almost made him throw up. It was impossible to hide from the staring lenses. He just could turn his back on them.

Even though he did not want to look, his view was drawn to his right hand. In a slow motion he stretched it with wide spread fingers to clench a fist then. He closed his eyes to block out the sight of the metal, dyed with this fluorescent paint. It was not only that the chains rendered him immobile. They made him feel vulnerable and humiliated.

The same applied to his nudity. Stripped of all his clothes, he was not left with the least protection. Not only against touches of any kind but also against stares.

And Kirkpatrick already had humiliated him, deeply. The talk about his former partner, the way he chained him up after his escape, the nail…

For a moment he just sat there, trying to block out everything. He wanted to focus on the things that gave him stability and security. To his concern it did not work. Every peaceful picture he was trying to imagine withdrew from his mind.

_Even Alex, _he sobbed inwardly_. Why can't I take hold on such thoughts?_

As if it wanted to answer the unspoken question his stomach rumbled.

_Yeah, might be one reason_, he thought. _I'm not surprised that I'm hungry after all the time that has passed and after he has drawn my blood._

He almost had forgotten the note and its implication. He looked around.

Next to him sat the tray, this time with a plate, an apple, two sandwiches and a bottle. He eyed the water suspiciously. There was no way to tell by sight if there would be anything else in the clear liquid.

He took the bottle and jammed it between his thighs to unscrew it. There was no strange scent and a tentative sip did not reveal any unusual taste. It seemed to be plain water. Anyway, he just took several sips and put the bottle aside. If there was no reaction he could drink more.

In the same way he examined the food, took some bites of the sandwiches and ate the apple.

Curiously he waited for a reaction. When nothing did happen, he consumed the sandwiches, too, and had more water.

Then he lay back and tried to relax. There was nothing else he could do. He just could wait for his captor to come back.

And as much as he hated to be alone in this place, he dreaded the return of Kirkpatrick… because he was afraid of what this man would do to him. What definitely was no help was that he knew the case files, the scenes where the bodies were discovered, the photos, and the autopsy reports. If he imagined that Kirkpatrick would do the same to him…

_To me. If it hadn't been for my conve__rsation with Mike it would be _Alex_ who's trapped here. I would not want her to suffer anything. And Kirkpatrick is right: She won't quit._

For a few seconds this thought energized him. Alex would not quit. She would not give up on him. And Mike, Caro and Deakins certainly would not let him down either.

_But __they__ will need time to find him as well as time to nail him. So, he's right again. I will have to get __them__ as much time as possible._

At once his insides churned again. Time. As Einstein already had said, _time's relative_. A few hours might not be much time for his colleagues out there in Manhattan, searching for him. But for him a few hours could stretch to a whole lifetime. So… time.

_It will possibly mean that I'll have to play his game. _His stomach churned by this thought_. In the end this will mean that he'll torture me. And that he will… _His train of thought stopped dead and shudders swept through his body. _Don't go there, Bobby. Trust Alex and the others to get him before he can…_

He held his breath.

_He told me to keep talking as well. The question is in which way he will let himself be influenced. He will be very cautious not to be diverted from his plans. I can't judge him. I don't know him this well. Whatever I do I can either be right or I can be wrong._

This was not very encouraging either. What might help was that Kirkpatrick supplied him with food and water, even though it was meant to torture him, too. Kirkpatrick knew Goren had to eat and if he left something his victim would take it. That was part of the survival instinct.

And that would provide Kirkpatrick with a strengthened victim, ready to take more of his perverted games.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"What is it, Alex?" Barek gently asked. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm trying to remember if he left any DNA here, on a coffee mug for example," Eames replied.

"You're right," Logan agreed. "He was here. He was talking with us that son of a bitch! He may have left a trace."

Involuntarily Stabler was reminded of the bar where he had met the fake Kirkpatrick. There he had been drinking… but it was impossible to find this very glass now, not to mention that it was washed already and certainly more than once.

_If I were psychic I could just have snatched that glass and brought it to CSU for a DNA check… but I'm not psychic._

"It's quite unlikely to find any evidence here holding DNA," Barek murmured. She eyed Eames compassionately. "But we'll find him. We'll just take another path."

"Which path?"

"His profile… these files together with what we have should give us enough information."

"Do you already have a thought you could share with us, partner?" Logan wanted to know.

"Hmmm… a thought… yes. A finished profile, no."

"Then tell us what you think, Barek," Eames pushed. "You can still do a more detailed profile."

"Okay…" Barek stepped closer to the wall holding the information. For a moment she stared at it thoughtfully. With a sigh she started to speak, "The man we're searching is, not surprisingly, highly intelligent. His actions are well organized, an assumption that is equally easy to make. As he operated in different cities and states he has to be well organized or he would not have been as _successful_. While he acts quite self confident he actually is very insecure. He copycats famous murderers because he doesn't trust himself to _invent_ his own modus operandi. In everyday life he can be even charming, but with an understated coolness. He will put on his mask of confidence, even arrogance, in situations which are demanding for him. He possibly will seek such situations but will be easily offended if the events don't turn out like he imagined. Being verbally or physically attacked or degraded he won't be able to play it down but will overreact. A simple look, a harmless remark… that might be all it needs to trigger an uncontrolled attack that you, Mr. Simon, called _his counterbalance_."

"That already sounds quite detailed," Stabler said, thinking of George Huang, the psychiatrist they were often working with. Some of what Barek had said he remembered from profiles the FBI agent had made.

"But certainly won't suffice to describe him correctly. This guy's so complex and contradictory that it may take days or weeks to figure him out and even then the profile might not be complete."

"Who did he copycat in Atlanta?" Eames turned to Rick Simon again. "If we can't locate him here, maybe we can find a lead in Atlanta."

The brothers exchanged a glance, then Rick opened another box to get a file out.

"Mark Ford Brady," he said. "On death row in Pennsylvania since 1992."

"Brady? Who's that? What did he do exactly?" Deakins wanted to know.

"He's sentenced for the rape and murder of seven women, four of them killed in Pennsylvania. MO: he attacked single mothers he found while working as a freelance photographer, raped and strangled them."

"Charming," Benson mumbled, looking at the photo Rick pinned up.

"Actually, yes, Brady _is_ quite charming. He knows how to manipulate his victims and pursuers. Didn't help him then, though."

"And that's who our guy copycatted?" Eames tried to get them back to the question on hand.

"Yeah."

"Barek, do you think it could be helpful to talk with Brady to get to know our guy better?"

Thoughtfully Barek looked at the board again, reluctant to answer straight away. Might it help? She shrugged.

"To be honest, I don't know." She could sense that this was not the answer the others wanted to hear. They were eager to find a lead, any lead. "It's possible that Brady can tell us something that helps us to understand this guy better, but it's also possible, and more likely than not, that we would waste our time."

Tense silence settled over the task room until Deakins made his decision.

"Barek, you and Logan will go and pay Brady a visit. Even if it might be a slight chance, I don't want to miss it."

xxx

**unknown location**

Exhaustion had made him drift away into rare sleep. When Goren woke up again he was still alone. The pain in his shoulder had worn off. A deceptive condition which lasted only as long as he did not move.

Meanwhile his body was hurting from the concrete floor he was lying on. He slightly shifted his position. In the same second pain stabbed his shoulder, then faded to a throbbing sensation.

He lay as still as possible, trying to hold on to positive memories.

When he finally heard the key turning, his heart skipped a beat. The waiting had an end. And what would happen next?

He saved himself the trouble to look who was coming. Who else than Kirkpatrick should it be?

"Hey, Bobby," Kirkpatrick greeted casually. "Did you miss me?"

Goren just snorted._ He doesn't really expect an answer, does he?_

"I truly cannot imagine why you don't talk with me. You're known for talking away and now an oyster would be more talkative."

Cautiously staying out of reach, Kirkpatrick shortened the chains that held Goren's legs to prevent him from kicking.

Goren stared at the ceiling. High above he heard the wheel turning and the clanking of the chain as Kirkpatrick approached. From his left he stepped into his field of vision.

"Give me your hand, Bobby," he ordered, not in the least surprised when Goren did not react at all. Even as the detective did not turn his head to face him, Kirkpatrick could read in his features the pain and the anger as well as defiance.

"C'mon, Bobby. Your sulky attitude only causes you trouble." He gestured him to lift up his left arm. When he did not give in, he grabbed the wrist, pulled it up and closed the shackle. He was well aware that the detective sucked in a sharp breath and grimaced with pain but ignored it completely.

"Give me your right hand, too," Kirkpatrick commanded. When Goren did not comply with this order he let out a sigh. Indifferent to any bad reaction, he lay his hand on his captive's shoulder.

Even the light touch hurt but was not enough to trigger a response. Goren closed his eyes.

"Defiance is not a solution, Bobby," Kirkpatrick reproached and pressed his hand harder on Goren's shoulder. He made him groan.

"So, c'mon now, Bobby."

A wicked smile curled his lips, when he watched Goren finally obeying the order very slowly. Still, he made no eye-contact. Kirkpatrick attached the second shackle to the chain. Then he got up again to undo the bondages on the ankles and the long chain to the right wrist.

Goren swallowed. Now he knew that he would have to stand up and to bear standing in the same position as before, his arms lifted high over his head. But this time his shoulder would certainly kill him.

Once again Kirkpatrick crouched beside him.

"I don't know what I shall do. Shall I shout at you like your former drill instructor? I can't remember Deakins yelling at you. Though, you obey his orders. I wonder why."

Slowly Goren turned his head and looked up at him. If looks were bullets, Kirkpatrick would have been dead in less than a heartbeat, sieved by his stares.

"Must have something to do with respect," Goren whispered in a voice hoarse by anger.

Kirkpatrick grinned. He lived on fear and rage. To see the detective like that cheered him. He nodded.

"You should _respect_ the fact that I can still harm your precious partner," he said amused. "You know what I said, Bobby. It was an exchange. You're here in her place. If you don't keep me in good temper I'll probably make up my mind and invite her to join us."

He saw rage flash in the dark brown eyes. The next second he was hit by a knee. He evaded another kick and grabbed the chain. When he pulled it, he stretched Goren's arms and the detective cried out due to the sudden impact. So Kirkpatrick let go of the chain and took hold of the right shoulder instead to pull him to his feet. As soon as Goren was standing, Kirkpatrick put his forearm over his throat from behind and dragged him to his chest. The detective reared but the grip was inexorable. He was forced to step backwards until the chain was tight and he had barely a chance to move.

"I want you to listen carefully, Bobby. You will obey my orders. You don't surrender… Well, then I have to punish you… which might include actions against Detective Alex. So you will do _whatever_ I tell you to do, _whenever_ I tell you to do it. You got that?"

There was no answer. Kirkpatrick could feel the tension that ran through the body.

"Stop struggling," he barked. "Freeze."

This time Goren did as he was told but gnashed his teeth. Kirkpatrick could hear it and grinned viciously.

"When I let you go, you will step forward and kneel down. You understand?"

Goren nodded slightly and was released. For a moment he just stood there but then proceeded forward. Kirkpatrick followed him, sure that he had won. All of a sudden Goren exploded. The attack came so fast that Kirkpatrick was totally caught by surprise. Goren could grab the man's neck in return and they fought both for their balance.

It was a pointless attempt. Once Kirkpatrick managed to retreat towards the wall, his advantage became obvious. He was free, and Goren was not. Kirkpatrick took advantage of the restriction by the chain and wriggled out of the grip, out of reach. He turned to face his prisoner.

Their stares locked. For some time they just stood there, watching each other. Kirkpatrick was acutely aware of the rage that burned inside the detective. He could have even sensed it with closed eyes. But he gloated over the sight of the tightened muscles, the set to the jaws, slightly bared teeth and the narrowed brows over the fiery eyes.

Slowly he approached again, not breaking eye-contact. For several seconds he kept the unspoken threat. With his left he then grabbed Goren's throat, painfully burying his fingers right beneath the joints of the lower jaw.

"You did not listen for a single second, did you?" he spat.

He saw the brown eyes widen just a fraction a split second before he jammed his right fist into the other man's stomach. As Goren writhed with pain he released his grasp, only to hit him again. He literally beat his brains out, cautiously avoiding doing serious damage but hurting as much as possible, before he swung for a final blow.

Goren never knew what it was but it hit him right between the shoulder blades with an impact that turned his world glowing white and he screamed out in agony before he collapsed to the ground.

His vision stayed blurred as he lay there, paralyzed, feeling nothing but pain. At first he thought his head was spinning but then realized that Kirkpatrick turned him to lie on his back again.

"With this idiotic heroism you lost the chance to come to an amicable settlement," Kirkpatrick stated. "I take it that the reason was that you didn't want to be chained up again. Am I right?"

He did not expect an answer but went to pick something up from the floor. Then he waited patiently until the brown eyes cleared enough to recognize him.

Goren still felt dizzy, but he saw Kirkpatrick bow down to him, a big iron ring in hands, grabbing for his neck again. For an instant panic hit him as he identified the ring as over dimensional cuff. He felt the cold metal close around his neck, the ends being secured by a handcuff. His hands were forced to his chest and Kirkpatrick threaded the other half of the cuff through the chain links. Tied up this way he was rendered virtually immobile.

"You make interesting choices," Kirkpatrick said.

"As if I could make any choice here," Goren grumbled.

"Of course you can," Kirkpatrick contradicted. "You made a choice by defending yourself against the chains. You did not know what to expect instead but you made a choice all the same. Now you have to accept the consequences of this choice. I'm relatively certain that you won't like this either."

With that he seized the short chain of the handcuff and pulled Goren to his feet to shove him through the room to a corner.

Goren had seen the cage standing there before but did not realize its function. He tensed up and tried to plant his feet, but that did not help in any way. Kirkpatrick just had to take hold of the cuffs to force him forwards. With his shin Goren hit the bars. Then he was knocked down on his knees and Kirkpatrick pushed him head first through the opening into the cage. His legs were squeezed in, too, and the flap was slammed shut and locked.

Goren closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing when he was suddenly hit by a hard jet of icy cold water.

"To cool down your temper," Kirkpatrick was laughing.

He watched Goren winding in the cage which was way too small for a man of his size and laughed even wilder. Then he turned off the water.

"Perhaps you'll be in a better mood when I'll return," he said.

Once again Goren was left in total darkness, shivering with cold and fear.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Barek and Logan were on their way to Pennsylvania. Carver had pulled out all the stops to get an appointment with the warden and the correctional facility's psychiatrist before they were going to interview Mark Ford Brady.

The rest of the team was analyzing the cases Rick and A.J. Simon connected to the _Locust_. It was hard to flip through all the files and try to make sense of the differences and similarities between them.

Charts were pinned up on the board as well, with lists beneath each victim's name defining their profiles. Stabler had shoved his chair into a corner and put his feet on the table, brooding over files. His partner leaned heavily on the tabletop, resting her head on the wrist of her propped up left arm while reading.

Eames was sitting at the table, too, staring at a file but not seeing anything. Her thoughts drifted back to the phone call, the scared voice of her partner and the horrible clipping from the newspaper. She was scared of turning on the television or radio because she suspected that Goren would be on all the news by now.

Both Simon brothers were reading the reports about the latest killings. They were not talking either. So an awkward silence filled the space between the people.

Then Odafin Tutuola and his partner John Munch joined the group.

"Hey, Liv, Elliot," Munch greeted them when he entered.

"Hey, guys," Tutuola nodded and leaned against the inner doorframe.

Quickly they introduced each other.

"Explain once again why you think that our cases are connected," Munch called on Stabler to give them information.

"It's in this guy's profile," he replied. "He tends to episodes of excessive violence. So it's possible that Jack Dawson became one of his victims."

"And we're here now because you can't find him?" Munch teased.

Stabler glowered at him.

"Yeah, you can't find him and you're hoping that we found a lead in the Dawson case."

"Did you?" Stabler pushed.

"What?"

"Find a lead?"

"Nope."

"That looks interesting," Tutuola said, stepping up to the board. "And there's no lead in all that stuff?"

"If there is one, we haven't found it yet," Stabler grumbled, looking over at his colleague. "And all the attention is just making it worse."

"Well, that's not news to us," Munch chimed in, joining his partner studying the board. His gaze fell on the clipping.

_NYPD Caught with Their Pants Down_ read the headline, covering the bottom of the picture of Goren. Still it was visible how he was chained up and that he did not wear any clothes.

"I thought I had a warped sense of humor, but that's just sick," Munch growled.

"If I ever get a hold of that reporter, he's gonna wish he'd called in sick today instead of writing that story," Tutuola added. "Hell, he's gonna wish he'd called in dead."

"I wish we could put them away for writing such trash," Eames said, suddenly sounding tearful. She fell silent because she was not sure if she would have her voice under control. What Munch and Tutuola had said fit with what she was thinking. That her partner was subjected to this kind of media attention now made her sick to her stomach and so furious that she was about to burst.

"Or withdraw their licenses… just like a lawyer would get disbarred," Munch said.

Their mood was too down to laugh or even chuckle, but the aura of despair surrounding them seemed to lighten.

"Can we concentrate on Atlanta for a moment?" Eames asked. "I still don't get this, Rick. You said that you were working together with Leland Kirkpatrick, investigating the copycatted murders, right?"

"Yeah."

"Hmmm… when you heard about New York… did you contact him?"

"I tried, but couldn't reach him," Rick confirmed. "Why?"

"I return the question to you. Why? Why did you contact him? Did you think that he might know why the guy wandered to New York next?"

Rick spent a few moments thinking.

"I don't think so. I don't remember if he ever followed one of his victims to another city."

"Maybe we should try to find that out," Benson chimed in. "Who's the first victim again?"

"Theresa Perkins," Eames told her and reached for a pile of folders. Flipping through them she found what she was looking for and handed it to Benson. "Here's the complete file."

"Okay, I'll check it," Benson said, as she leaned back in her chair and hid behind the folder.

"She looks a lot like Dawson," Munch thought aloud. "But there seems to be a pattern in these stabs."

"Yeah, that's a star constellation, the Libra," Stabler threw in.

Thoughtfully Munch nodded, then he asked, "Cause of death were the stabs?"

"No," Eames answered him. "Stephanie Fountain would have bled to death due to the stab wounds, but her neck was broken. Rodgers said that she most likely was dead when she was stabbed."

"Any other injuries?"

"Every other body showed ligature marks, but Fountain was not held captive. She was taken, killed and staged in a special posture."

Once more Munch nodded. "So she shows another similarity to the Jack Dawson murder," he mused. "Was she assaulted? And why the Libra?"

"She was not raped or sodomized. We think that he chose the Libra to refer to scales. The posture the body was found in resembled Lady Justice as she is often depicted, one arm raised, holding the scales, the other holding the sword."

"How was her murder connected to the others?"

"The way she was chosen. Stevie Fountain was a nodding acquaintance of Goren," Stabler said before Eames could answer this time.

Questioningly Munch raised his eyebrows at her.

"Yeah, that's right. Her body was staged in the hotel room of two tourists from Germany. The killer sent them tickets for a Broadway musical to be sure that he wouldn't be interrupted. Then he went there with his victim and killed her."

"A couple from Germany?" Tutuola asked, frowning.

"Yeah."

"He probably chose them on purpose," he mused. "Bobby was stationed in Germany and speaks the language."

"Right. He did the interview himself. I was astonished that he remembered that much to actually lead the interrogation in German."

"He's got a talent for languages," Tutuola said. "They're easy to learn for him."

Thoughtfully Eames nodded, remembering one of their first cases. He had surprised her when he suddenly spoke German with one of the men they interviewed.

"Does that lead us anywhere?" she wondered.

"Right now I can't think of anything."

"How were the necks broken?" Benson asked. "Blunt force trauma?"

"No, the head of Fountain must have been turned with a quick grip," Eames explained.

"As was Dawson's," Munch said.

"So we have similarities in the MO of both murders," Stabler mused.

"And I need to check something," Benson declared and grabbed the phone. For a while she was talking and listening, then she turned to her colleagues again and told them, "Theresa Perkins has been in Atlanta."

"Really?" Eames asked incredulously.

"Yes. "

They all looked at her, thinking hard. Was it really possible that the serial killer picked her as his next victim in Atlanta? Did he already plan his new _project_ while he was still living there?

Before anyone could say something the phone put up on Stabler's desk rang. He answered the call and listened intently to the man on the other end of the line, responding to some questions, too. When he finished the call he turned to his colleagues again.

"That was Gil Grissom, the supervisor of the nightshift team of the Las Vegas forensic laboratories," Stabler told them. "He had some questions about our request. They will re-examine evidence they found on the victims of the case that is possibly connected to ours."

"Great! Hopefully they'll be able to lift genetic evidence," Eames said.

"Yeah, let's hope that," Stabler agreed. "Now let's find out more about Perkins' trip to Atlanta."

tbc…


	22. Chapter 21

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent , LO:SVU , Without a trace , or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: LOL Special thanks to _The Confused One_ for transcribing a specific scene for me I got the idea for the Bobby/perp scene from. This chapter's for you. ;) Thanks to all of you for reviewing and of course to my beta and to _Infinity Star_ for her advice. Enjoy.

**21**

**State penitentiary**

**Pennsylvania**

Even though she had thought about her interview with Mark Ford Brady during their ride to the prison in Pennsylvania, Barek was nervous. They would not talk about his own crimes but fish in the dark for any information he might or might not have about the killer the private investigator from San Diego was calling _The Locust_.

After their conversation with both the warden and the psychiatrist, Barek and Logan were waiting in a cell of the C block where the prisoners usually met their lawyers. It was a dark room with walls that looked like the walls of an old dungeon. The stones were of irregular size and the seams deep. There was a table in the middle of the room and two chairs on each side.

"Depressing place," Logan mumbled to himself. "Guess that makes the difference between death row and a five star hotel."

"Logan…" Barek scolded.

"What? It's true."

She just rolled her eyes at him.

When the door opened two correctional officers accompanied Mark Ford Brady into the room. The man in his early sixties had unruly grey hair and wore simple prison clothes. He was shackled, both ankles and wrists cuffed and connected with his middle. But still he spread an energetic charisma that offered a glimpse of how he had charmed his victims into his love trap.

Barek sensed that she had to be careful with her questioning. Her first impression of the killer was that she had been well advised when she asked her partner to restrain himself.

"An appearance that makes my humble living room shine like the ballroom of the _Plaza_," Brady said, smiling at Barek. He did not even glance at Logan. Making an inviting gesture at the chairs he sat down in one on his side of the table. "Detective Barek, what can I do for you?"

Barek decided not to react to his compliment and took her place opposite of the convicted murderer while Logan sat down to her left. The two guards stood by the walls, seemingly oblivious to what was going on at the table but ready to intervene should their prisoner try to do something stupid. The door swung closed and fell into the lock with a distinct _snick_.

"Well, Mr. Brady, we'd like to talk to you about a case from Atlanta," Barek explained.

"Atlanta?" he wondered. "Why would New York cops be interested in a case from Atlanta?" He paused, keeping the question hanging in the air, but he got no response. "Other than that the killer has moved to their own territory?"

"You're misinterpreting my words, Mr. Brady."

"Mr. Brady!" He laughed. "That sounds so formal. Call me Mark."

For only a second Barek contemplated that offer, "Okay."

"May I call you Carolyn?" Brady asked with a broad smile.

"You can call her Detective Barek," Logan threw in before his partner could answer.

"Who's talking to you, _Detective Logan_?" Brady grumbled with just a glance at him. "So, Detective Carolyn, why exactly are you here?"

"We're here to study the case."

"Bullshit," Brady spat. "Don't try to pretend this case isn't important. I know it is."

"You know, Mark?" Barek challenged.

"It wasn't stupidity that got me caught," he replied, smirking. "It was just bad luck."

"So why don't you simply tell us what you know?"

"Because I'd really love to know why you're so interested in a string of murders that took place far, far away from your own turf first."

"Similarities," Barek offered. "The murders in Atlanta showed similarities with your own."

"Well, that's interesting," Brady said, "but still doesn't explain why New York cops would come to talk to me about it on such short notice."

For a moment he studied both detectives before he spoke again, "They announce any visitors. I got your names, squad and request before they brought me here. I know you're with the Major Case Squad. So tell me why I should help you or I'll go back to my cell." He smiled. "Even though I certainly would regret leaving your company, Detective Carolyn."

Barek held his gaze. His eyes were stunning as was his smile. Even though he had grown old, it was easy to imagine how impressed the women were to be courted by this handsome and charming man, especially as they were raising their children alone, having made the experience that men lost their interest once they knew there was a kid.

"You don't like compliments?" Brady asked. "C'mon, every woman likes compliments."

"We're not here for small talk, Mark," Barek told him. "Will you help us?"

"As long as I don't know how I possibly could, I can't," he smirked.

"Okay, Mark," Barek admitted, opening the folder she had brought with her and getting out two photos, "we have reason to assume that the man committing the murders in Atlanta was copycatting your modus operandi."

She placed the pictures on the tabletop and shoved them over to him, but he only glanced at them.

"And you're asking me to do what? Are you thinking you'll gather some insight into his psyche while you're studying me? Is that what you're intending to do?"

"Are you willing to work with us?"

Brady leaned a bit forward and murmured conspiratorially, "Can't just we two work on your profile?"

"No, you can't," Logan snapped protectively.

"Your partner's not very well trained," Brady stated, leaning back in his chair. If his chains would have allowed it he would have folded his arms over his chest.

Logan was ready to jump up and punch the smug bastard in the face, but one glance his partner shot at him was enough to make him dismiss that thought.

Brady did not miss the silent communication and smirked.

"I must correct myself, he _is_ well trained."

"Let's concentrate on the case, Mark," Barek kindly asked him, ignoring both, Brady and Logan. She knew that her partner was just short of attacking Brady which they could not afford in any respect. "Can we do that?"

"We can," Brady agreed.

So Barek gave him a few papers.

"An autopsy report?" He flipped through it. "Where are the crime scene photos?"

"You won't need them. Just use your memory."

"These are not my works." A mysterious smile played around his lips. When he got no reply he turned to the report again. "Seem to be good copies."

"Tell us more."

"Like what?" Brady smirked at her. "Okay, okay… hmmm, he's well organized, but not pedantic. Are these the first two victims?"

"Yes."

"Well, he's not copycatting one to one, he's just copycatting the MO… and he does it well as far as I can judge without photos of the bodies… hmmm, it's quite telling that he doesn't bring in his own personality, don't you think?"

Brady was studying the papers attentively, but he also kept an eye on Barek and when she laid her hand on another picture that was still showing its backside he raised his head to smile at her.

"Is that something about the case you're working in New York?" he wanted to know.

"You said that he wouldn't bring in his own personality. What exactly do you mean?"

"Copycatting is all he does. He avoids developing his own style. That's interesting. Guess he's too insecure to decide what he wants himself." Brady chuckled.

"Tell us if you've ever heard of this MO," Barek told him and turned the picture around. It was the only crime scene photo she wanted to reveal and showed Theresa Perkins.

"Interesting," Brady said, taking the picture. For a long time he just looked at it. "How does he choose his victims?"

"It's not clear how he picked his first victim, but he found the next while he was following and watching the first. The chain continues like that."

"So they have common interests?"

"Only the first and second victim. The second then has something else in common with the third. They both went to the same doctor."

"Hmmm… even though you seem to think that one serial killer has to know others of his kind I don't know much about anyone else." Once more he studied the picture. "So I can't tell if he's copycatting again."

"Don't you think that we're wasting our time?" Logan grumbled.

"I think that Mark is trying to help," Barek told him. "We should give him a chance."

"Try to give him that chance faster before the psycho kills him."

"Logan," Barek tried to stop his rant.

But Brady already picked it up, "Him? I thought he picked females?"

"Yes, he does," Barek confirmed.

Logan grunted. "Yeah, yeah, play games with him. And in the meantime he's dying!"

"Who?" Brady threw in before Barek could explode.

Both detectives fought a staring duel. Logan was tense with rage. He could not stand the thought that Goren was in the hands of the sadistic murderer. Everything in him yearned to find at least the hint of a lead. Nothing was as bad as the helplessness he felt as they were running into dead end after dead end. Why the heck should they not tell Brady what was going on? He was on death row for God's sake! It was not as if he could go and warn the perv. But maybe he knew something that _could_ help them find Goren.

"Whoever it is seems to mean something to you," Brady mused, watching the cops.

"The lead detective on the case," Logan blurted out.

"And this lead detective is male?"

"Yep. The psycho was playing mind games with him before he abducted him." Logan avoided looking at Barek. He knew that her looks were trying to kill him.

"Who was in charge?" Brady wanted to know.

Barek was observing him again. _Suddenly he sounds excited,_ she noticed. _It's barely perceptible, but it's there. Something grabbed his attention. His brows are knitting… it's almost as if he worries about something._

"He only would choose the most competent, smartest and most interesting adversary," Brady mused. "He'd choose the detective with the highest solve rate of the squad to play his game with him. Just why should he take the only man he believes to be capable to keep up with his genius? That makes no sense!" Irritated he shook his head. "I heard of your squad… is detective Goren still leading the statistics?"

"Yes, he is," Barek said matter-of-factly, desperately trying to hide her surprise. How in God's name did he know about Goren? The New York detectives might be mentioned in local but not in the national news. The next breath Brady took was the faintest gasp Barek ever had heard.

"Bastard," Brady mumbled hardly audible. He spoke to his hands and certainly did not realize that he could be heard. "Ya fuckin' bastard!"

Not noticing that he did, Brady crumpled the picture in his hand. His teeth were gnashing.

"Mark?" Barek tried to get his attention. "We need to keep working."

"Did he take Goren?" Brady asked back, sounding urgent all of a sudden. "Tell me! Did he abduct Detective Robert Goren?"

Uncertain if she should confirm this request Barek remained silent. Logan scowled at her and cleared his throat. When his partner did not react he made the decision himself. It was in the news for God's sake!

"Yes, he did."

Brady was balling his fist so hard that a thin line of blood trickled out of it when the fingernails pierced his skin. A few drops fell on the pictures. Obviously his emotions were boiling up.

"He'll regret that," he whispered, his voice hoarse with rage. For the first time he looked right at Logan, piercing him with his stare. "Make sure of that."

xxx

**unknown location**

When Kirkpatrick returned to his prison he had Chinese takeout with him. Sitting on the mattress he had brought in he ate, using chopsticks. It smelled wonderful and Goren's stomach was grumbling.

But Chinese food was something Goren could only dream about. Being trapped in the cage, his arms forced into the cuffs connected to the neck ring, there was nothing he could do but to watch Kirkpatrick. What would he give for just a small box of rice or some vegetables. Just something to soothe his churning insides. But Kirkpatrick put the boxes aside and got up.

Goren only saw the man's back as he looked through his supplies. Then Kirkpatrick walked back to the mattress and sat down.

Kirkpatrick searched his captive's view to lock with it before he continued with what he was doing.

Goren's heart skipped a beat when he recognized what Kirkpatrick was tampering with, his binder. Slowly the man opened the zipper of the portfolio, opened it and began to rummage in the papers.

"What did you think when you added this note with _copycat?_ to the board?" Kirkpatrick asked casually. Once more he searched eye-contact. "Did you actually have someone in mind when you thought I was copycatting?"

_One of his mind games again_, Goren sighed inwardly.

"I meant the girl at the hotel room. We were wondering if she was killed by a copycat," he said with a voice bare of any emotion.

"Why? Because I arranged her as Justice?"

Goren frowned. _Justice? I really have had a blackout... If someone has figured it out?_

"Don't tell me you didn't recognize that." His amusement faded. "Coco, or should I say, Nicky always told me you were so smart."

_Nicky? Does he mean Nicole?_

"So you actually met Nicole Wallace?" he asked.

"Nicole Wallace?" Kirkpatrick chuckled. "Her name's Wallace as mine's Kirkpatrick," he snickered. "When she was just a little girl she wanted to be called Coco... as she always called the kookaburras. She tried to beat them in laughing."

"You know her from Australia?"

"We often spent holidays together," he said. "We were in the outback, on a ranch. She hunted goannas and frilled neck lizards, shot at Galahs and parrots and once tried to milk a brown snake to get her venom. Even back then she gave a preview of what she would become."

"So you're a friend of hers?" The thought of these two, discussing Alex and himself, gave him the creeps. _So he has his information from her..._ "Weird way to show her... drugging and cuffing her to turn her in to the police."

"She was getting in my way," Kirkpatrick said unaffectedly. "I had to get rid of her before she could warn you."

_Why should Nicole of all people want to warn me?_ Goren was confused. _Because she knew something about him, something she still did not want to give away, even after he had betrayed her. Love can build a bridge..._

"Did she talk with you?" His gaze rested on the cruelly imprisoned detective. "No? I guess that's because she was under the impression that I was after Detective Alex. She has no time for your partner." Once more he chuckled. "Well, that was before I overheard your conversation with Mike."

This made Goren look up, at least as far as he could with his hands cuffed to the ring around his neck. _He overheard us? When we were talking about me having to talk with Alex?_

"You told him that you would give your life for her."

An icy shudder ran over Goren's back. _Oh my God._

"The story you were telling Logan sounded as if you'd beg me not to take Alex. You pleaded with me to spare her my attention." His laughter became vicious again. "So I'm asking you again... do you love her?"

Good question. So far he could not answer it for himself. _At least I can't define the way I love her. Sometime along our journey as partners our relationship has changed from pure professionalism to friendship. And now?_

"You still don't want to talk about Alex? Are you scared that you could give me information about her that could make me interested in her again? Or are you scared that you could find out what Nicole has known for years?" He watched him closely. "We know that you love her, no, that you're in love with her. Only the two of you are not able to see that.

"It really has taken some time, until you could find a partner who would stick by you," Kirkpatrick continued. "You're impossible to work with... at least that's what they all claimed when they fled you."

He put down Goren's notebook and settled in on the mattress.

"You have your ways to scare people off," Kirkpatrick laughed. "I got a whole collection of new-partner-requests out of the department's files."

He picked up a folder to open it and let his finger run over the first page.

"Unorthodox is a much too harmless word, I think," he teased. "This one was quite decent with his description when he asked for a replacement for you."

"If you think, you could hurt me this way, then you're in the wrong," Goren said.

"I'm sure you're thinking that right now," he agreed. "But it _is_ hurting. I know it. I have a lot of experience with hurt."

"Oh yeah? Who has hurt you? Your father?"

"Nobody has hurt me. I'm the one who's hurting the others… hurting you."

Goren snorted. This reminded him of someone… a sweet sparkling girl in an angel's body but with a devilish mind.

"I hear that all along, each time I'm speaking with someone who has been abused as a child: _Nobody has hurt me. Why should someone hurt me. My Mommy and Daddy love me. I miss them so much_…"

"This one's also great," Kirkpatrick ignored him, slapping his thigh. "…_Detective Goren is unstable and therefore dangerous. His behavior leads me to the conclusion that he does not care for me or rather my safety on duty_. He was one of the guys who were quite direct with their descriptions." He chuckled. "His name was Pogue. How long did he stay? Do you remember that?"

About this question he had to think for a moment. Pogue. Yes, he remembered Pogue, but how long did he stay.

"Must have been seven or eight weeks," he finally answered. Pogue had been an ass. He reacted to him as Stabler had reacted at first. The only difference was that Pogue had not stopped, he remained an ass. And if it had been for him, Goren, he would have left much earlier. To be honest, he had been the one guy who almost made _himself_ write a request for a new partner. The only reason that had stopped him was that he already had driven away three of those.

"No, nine weeks and two days," he corrected himself.

Kirkpatrick's eyes pierced him. "How's it come that you remember this so well? He must have been really annoying."

_You have no idea_.

"Well, most people will remember having met you, Bobby," he chuckled. "You're easy to remember with all your eccentricities. And the stunts you like to pull enhance it further. The Croyden case is a good example."

Goren scowled at him. Actually this case had not led to his partner leaving as Eames still was working with him and, more importantly, it had not been his fault that Croyden died. The man did not commit suicide, he was killed by Nicole.

"I know that it was an attempt to set you up," Kirkpatrick just said. "But I still like the letter… _To whom it may concern, I am writing this note to document my current situation and the reasons for my actions. I tried to serve my country. But now they've engaged a former member of the Army Criminal Investigation Unit to implicate me in an anthrax plot. This man has used his badge to ruin me. Thanks to him, I've lost my job, my home, my son. My innocence doesn't matter to him."_

"Yeah, Nicole has a tendency to be melodramatic," Goren grumbled.

Laughing out loud Kirkpatrick threw his head back. "That's a good one!" he cheered. "A tendency to be melodramatic. I'm sure she'd like that."

"Yeah, we could go and pay her a visit," Goren mumbled more to himself than to his captor, but he was understood and the man was laughing even harder.

"Nice try, Bobby. But I don't think that it would be such a good idea to just walk into prison and ask to visit her."

Slowly he settled down again and turned back to the letters.

"How about this…" he mused. "Blabla blabla… _Detective Goren appears to be unbalanced and therefore intolerable to work with. He gives me reason to believe that I cannot rely on his backup and so I herewith ask for transfer to my previous squad_… It's incredible. I like this." He was wetting his finger to have a better grip on the pages and flipped to the next.

Goren knew that his former partners had left him due to his mannerisms which resulted from growing up with a schizophrenic mother. Well, not all of his oddities originated there, his father and brother also had played their parts as well as classmates and fellow students. And that he absorbed information like a sponge, ready to argue with everyone, made him appear arrogant from time to time. That was how Eames once described him, when he had asked her. It had been after one difficult case and she had answered as best as she could because she felt his need for reassurance. It also had been one of the occasions he seriously wondered how she could put up with him. He still was surprised each and every day that she stayed… grateful, but surprised.

That was something he did not want to question further and one, if not the most important, reason that he never dared to expect more from her.

Still Kirkpatrick was reading. Was it the fourth letter? The fifth? Goren could not tell. If it was the fifth there would be six more to go.

Inwardly he sighed. To hear now what his former partners actually had reasoned in their requests was a completely different matter than to hear from Deakins that he would be on desk duty again because his last partner had packed it in and left.

And then came Eames. This tiny little blonde with the big attitude. He had just seen her small form in the big chair in front of Deakins' desk and wondered if he heard the captain right. But this petite woman rose with an energetic style and offered him her slim hand. He had mumbled a welcome, she followed him to her new desk and then she had almost knocked him over with a wisecrack that would have made her old man blush if he could have heard her. So Goren had learnt that she came from a cop family and suddenly remembered why this name had sounded so familiar even before they met. Yes, their start had been rocky, but…

"Hey! Bobby! You're not listening!" Kirkpatrick opened the hose and splashed cold water over him to get his attention. "You shall listen, Bobby!" he teased. "I want to know what you're thinking about these letters!"

"Nothing," Goren grumbled. "They're history, of no significance."

"You see, Bobby… I… don't… believe… you."

"Then don't…" He could not care less at that moment.

"This one's my absolute favorite," Kirkpatrick sneered. "I guess I should read the complete letter. Hmm… address and so on… _Dear Captain Deakins, after careful weighing of the circumstances I cannot see a way to possibly solve the situation to both our benefit. I thoroughly thought about this decision and gave us some time to develop our partnership_…" He paused for a moment, silently reading and chuckling. "That's the highlight. I love this part so much… _To my honest regret I have to state, that Detective Goren's erratic and anti-social behavior, his volatile and bizarre interrogation techniques lead me to have doubts about his judgment and mental stability."_ He looked at Goren to check on his reaction. Yes, he could see hurt in the deep brown eyes. More hurt than had been there before he started his game._ "As he is almost completely leaving me out in making decisions and dominating the cases, I don't see a basis for further cooperation. So I'm left with no choice but to request a new partner. I kindly thank you for your understanding. Yours faithfully…" _Once more he stopped to emphasize his words. _"…_signed by _Detective Alexandra Eames."_

Until the _yours faithfully_, Goren had felt shivers on his back, but when Kirkpatrick read the signature the words had an impact like a sledgehammer into his stomach. All physical pain was forgotten.

"Alex…?" he whispered. At first he was just shocked, then fury boiled inside of him. "You're lying!"

"Why should I?"

Kirkpatrick stood up, approaching the cage. He bowed to the side, looking and also pointing at the page. Obviously he was imitating Goren's mannerisms.

"I can be mistaken, but this… seems to be her signature." He held the file towards the cage for him to look at. "It _is_… her signature, isn't it?"

He held it there just long enough for Goren to recognize the handwriting and laughed when he heard him gasp.

"Might that be the reason that she isn't already here to save you? I tell you, she isn't even looking for you. They all will be glad to be rid of you, especially Elliot Stabler."

Once more he laughed. He laid the open folder on the ground, quite clear to see, but too far away for Goren to be able to read it.

"She, too, intends to abandon you. She was playing with you as all the others did before. And now she left you. You sacrificed yourself for her and she doesn't even search for you."

Every rational thought was banished from his mind while he listened to these taunts. His heart beat as if it wanted to burst out of his chest and in his gut a hard lump formed.

Kirkpatrick laughed his wicked laughter when he spotted the tears welling in Goren's eyes.

"Cheers, Bobby," he said cheerfully and let the steel door fall shut.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

"Lewis!"

Eames was surprised to hear his voice, though, by second thought she realized that his call had to be expected.

"You didn't think that I'd call?" he asked. "I've seen that horrible picture in the newspaper and tried the whole day not to keep you from searching, but now I couldn't stand it anymore."

"I'm sorry, Lewis. I don't know whether I'm coming or going." Sighing she sank into her office chair.

"I'm sorry, too, Alex. Do you have any news? Any lead?" Lewis sounded desperate, almost begging. "Anything! Just tell me that you have a lead. Please!"

Eames swallowed hard. "Sorry, Lewis. I'll let you know as soon as we know more," she tried to reassure him. "I think we're on the right way, but there's nothing substantial right now."

"Damn, Alex!" Lewis swore. "Is that all you can do? Bobby's counting on you! Don't let him down!"

"We won't, Lewis," she said, but actually that did not sound very convincing to her own ears.

"Well, it would sound better if you'd believe it yourself," Lewis teased, but he still sounded sad. Becoming desperate he rasped, "He's being tortured as we're talking here. Every second he could be in incredible pain. You can't just sit there! Do something!" When Eames could not answer this time he whispered, choking, "Just bring him back, Alex. Please bring him back."

"We'll do everything we can," she told him and prayed that it would be enough to save her partner's life.

After this call she needed a moment to regain her composure. Leaning back in her chair she took a few deep breaths before she resumed her work. Time passed mercilessly and sooner than she expected she felt her fatigue. Deakins had ordered them to rest at least a few hours while other members of Major Case would keep working. They simply could not work twenty four seven without any sleep.

The last thing before calling it a night was another meeting in the task room to gather the latest information. Tense silence lingered in the room while the detectives were waiting for the last of their team to join them.

Benson noticed that Stabler and Rick Simon sat in opposite corners of the room, as far away from each other as possible. When they were comparing files and discussing modus operandi they became more and more tense and aggressive. Benson sensed that they were starting where her partner and Goren had left off… fighting for the alpha position.

Shooting Stabler a dark glare he knew as her _spare me the shit_ look, Benson slightly shook her head. His brows shot up and he held out his open palms in a clueless _what_ gesture.

_You know what,_ Benson mouthed and directed his attention to the older Simon brother.

Stabler let his hands fall down on the file on his thighs, grimacing at his partner and rolling his eyes.

Furtively Eames watched the silent communication and felt her stomach lurch when she was reminded of her own partner. Obviously all long time partners developed their own unspoken language. She knew how Carver could despair of their games in interrogation and their virtually instinctive knowledge of what the other would do next, their fine tuned sense of the partner's thoughts and actions was essential for their success. Stabler and Benson were the same.

_Well, we can't afford territory fights,_ Eames thought. _We all have to cooperate to get Bobby out of this as soon as possible. God! Bobby!_ She sighed and took a deep breath next. Still her insides were rumbling. _Rick and A. J. know what they're doing. I don't understand why Elliot feels threatened by Rick, he's no cop so Elliot can always kick him off the case any time he wants… what we should not do, because he can really help us. So he should not try to take charge of him. That's bad advice._

All their attention was caught by the couple coming in right now, followed by Deakins. Barek and Logan were carrying piles of pizza cartons.

"Thank god for cell phones," Eames sighed and slapped Logan on the shoulder. "And thanks to the bearer for the ordered meal!"

"Which one's for you?"

"Tuna Hawaii," Eames said.

Logan frowned, but found the right box for her. "And who gets bacon, egg and artichoke?"

"That's for me!" Benson stepped up to get the box from him.

"And who ordered white pizza with onions and mushrooms?" Logan asked incredulously. "White pizza?"

"That one's for me, you philistine!" Barek laughed. "You were standing right next to me when I ordered it." She saw her partner frown at her. "Guess you were too busy flirting, huh?"

"Probably."

"Okay…" She took her box and shoved the other pile over to Logan. "You get the one with salami… and everything else on it, right?"

"Yeah," Logan smirked. "And then we have one with chili peppers…" Questioningly he looked around and saw Rick Simon stretch up his arm. He handed the box to him and read, "Onions, olives and green pepper?"

"Mine," A. J. declared and thanked Logan when he took his box.

Tutuola got a simple bacon and mushroom pizza and Munch a vegetarian. Looking at the last two boxes Logan declared, "So there are one with chicken and one with sausage, onions, olives and feta cheese left."

"Chicken's for me," Stabler took it. "Thanks."

"What can I say?" Deakins defended his choice. "I felt like having Greek food, but you ordered pizza. It's a fine combination."

The detectives laughed good-naturedly. Then they all sat down to first eat their pizzas before comparing notes.

"And the chicken pizza looks like chinese," Logan teased and Stabler smirked at him.

"Well, I'm surprised that you actually can lift your slices with all the stuff on them."

"Tha's a sup'eme," Logan mumbled with his mouth full of pizza.

"Yeah, I've heard you order it." Barek grinned. "Don't complain if you get stomach ache."

How Logan managed to smirk and glower at her at the same time nobody knew, but it sure as hell looked funny and made the other detectives laugh.

Stabler was the first who got up. Still munching on his last bite he picked up a marker and turned to the whiteboard they also brought into the task room which was overflowing with cops and files. _Theresa Perkins_ Stabler wrote on the board and drew a circle around the name.

"Okay," he said. "We already knew that Theresa was a patient at the doctor's office LeeAnn Patterson was working at as a nurse." From Perkins' circle he drew a line diagonally to the right below and made another with Patterson's name in it. "Patterson on the other hand taught karate at the dojo Julia Cornwell-Brooks was taking self defense lessons at."

"Right," Munch grumbled. "And how does that help us?"

"Don't be that impatient, John," Stabler told him. "What we can add now is the following…"

Turning back to the board he drew another circle in the upper left corner to add another name, Donna Attenborough. Between her circle and Perkins' came one more marked with Denise McCrae.

"Now I'm curious," Tutuola said.

"Well, going further back in her finances we found checks on her credit card account paid in Atlanta. Five months before she was murdered Theresa Perkins visited an old school mate, Denise McCrae, there…" With his knuckles he drummed on the board where the corresponding circle was. "…and was staying with her for about a week. I had a nice long talk with Denise on the phone and learned that she went together with Theresa to her step aerobic class… where they met Donna Attenborough, who was teaching this class until four days later…"

"When she became the last victim of the Atlanta string," Rick threw in. "She was divorced and had a little daughter, six years old. Her father took her in."

"So the perv probably picked Perkins in Atlanta," Eames said. "I can't believe it."

"How long did you stay in Atlanta after Donna Attenborough was found?" Benson wanted to know. "I assume that you were still investigating…"

"Yeah, for about two weeks, then I had to return to San Diego," Rick told her.

"We stayed in touch with Leland until he was asked to search for Julia," A. J. added.

"Did you call him?" Eames asked, confused. As much as she knew Leland Kirkpatrick never went to New York. The man the Simons called the Locust had killed him before he could leave Atlanta.

"We exchanged emails and text messages," Rick said. "We both were kind of busy, so we seldom were talking on the phone anyway."

"You think that we were talking with the killer, right?" A. J. turned to Eames.

"Yeah."

"Shit!" Rick exclaimed.

"Talking about shit…" Logan murmured. "Did you ever find something like a scrapbook or other souvenirs?"

"Of the Locust?" Rick wondered aloud.

"Yep."

"We never stumbled over something like that," Rick said. "Why do you ask?"

"Brady. He was talking with us about the man's urge to relive the individual killings," Barek explained in her partner's place. "Any kind of souvenir would help him to revive the memories."

"Well, if he's collecting something he never left it anywhere. If he wants to keep something to remind himself of his work he'd rather take it with him, right?" A. J. mused.

"You have the better survey over the different cases and respective crime scenes," Eames said. "Did he ever take something from there?"

"Only if the guy he copycatted did."

"That he's collecting does not necessarily mean that he takes trophies," Barek told them. "He can also cut newspaper articles or he makes photos of his captives… Like he did with Goren."

Silence fell once more. Deakins' gaze was diverted by someone strolling through the squad room. It was Danny Messer who held a device taking measurements for him. Curiously he surrounded a pair of conjoined desks.

"What's he doing there?" Deakins wondered, getting up from his chair.

"I asked him to," Logan answered him. "I thought it might be best…"

"…if he…?" _checks for bugs_ Benson wanted to finish his sentence but was cut off by Logan and Barek. Both of them nodded.

"Well, the guy sent Alex a video recording of her partner, he sent a photo to the press… the video was made with a nightvision camera. Looks as if he'd be a tech-freak," Logan told them.

"In this case he probably used surveillance systems to spy out his victims," Munch said. "Like the case you once had, El, the cellist who was stalked. Her whole apartment was peppered with mini-cameras and mikes."

"Cassie Germaine…" Benson said in her partner's stead. "Yeah, but as you said, she was stalked, we're talking about a serial killer."

"That doesn't mean that he wouldn't put them under his surveillance," Munch insisted. "You know how easy it is. You can have the recordings sent via internet and receive them everywhere on the world. You just have to know how to do it."

"And you have to get the equipment somewhere," Eames said.

"No problem," Fin told her dryly. "I've seen that shop when I was there with Munch. It's a spy's paradise and the stuff isn't even as expensive as you'd assume."

Messer approached the task room they were working in, his meter still raised. Logan gave them all a sign to remain silent for a moment while the CSU detective checked the office.

"Clean," he said after a round through the whole room. "But I found a bug out there at the desk."

"A bug?" Deakins blurted out. "Here? Which desk is it?"

"The first set, right when you come in. And I didn't want to go into your office without your permission."

"Then you better check it now," Deakins told the forensic scientist.

Eames felt her stomach rumble. These first desks were hers and Goren's.

"Okay, what will we make out of this discovery? Can you track the signal?" Munch asked.

"Sure. I need other equipment, though. I can check the captain's office and be back in half an hour."

"Do that," Deakins ordered and Messer turned on his heels to go and do as he was told. Logan followed him on foot.

"I got something else to test," he said and gave him an envelope. "I wrote a note for you."

"Okay," Messer replied, took the envelope and pocketed it. Then he vanished into Deakins' office to search it. When he showed up again, he grinned sourly at Logan.

"We should think about refining our security at One PP," he murmured. "I'll be right back."

xxx

**unknown location**

_Alex!_

Still being trapped in the small cage, all Goren could freely move was his mind. His thoughts rambled from this to that and from A to Z, but came back every once in a while to that single name.

_Alex!_

It was an inward outcry of his partner's name, filled with physical and emotional pain.

_This letter! It can't be true! She would never do that!_

He cursed himself that he did not look at the date before his captor pulled the sheet away again. So he just had seen her signature and glanced at the few words that had had such a deep impact on him.

There it lay, not far from the cage in plain sight, but too far away for him to read. He did not even try to crane his neck as he knew that chains and bars would stop him. His whole body was sore from the cramped position he had to assume.

The damned cage was not high enough for him to sit in it and too short to lie down. So, with some difficulty due to his chained hands, he had found a curled up lying position with his legs drawn up. His arms and legs yearned to be stretched and he felt his muscles protest against the unusual long time of immobility.

His natural restlessness proved to be a curse.

_When may she have written this?_ Goren wondered. _Was it during our rough start? Well, she sure would've had reason to do it back then. I think that it was this one talk we had that made her stay. One day later and she would've walked out on me, too._

_But that certainly wasn't the only opportunity. Stabler mentioned another good reason, the trash-incident. God! I just was so excited to have her back after her maternity leave that I didn't think for a second when I pulled that bag out of the bin! I could've blown us up if a bomb would've been inside! Did she write it then?_

_She might've had another reason earlier on… Croyden. This could be another case when she finally doubted me. I doubted myself. Nicole got me good with that one. It could've ruined me._

_Oh! There's another… Eames was mad as hell with me when I defended John Tagman. That may have been the trigger for her to write this letter…_

_If she did I'm more than lucky that she didn't hand it in…_

He pulled the mental emergency break. There was no sense in racking his mind about her possible reasons to write this letter now. It did not change anything about his situation. All it did was make him feel even more miserable. It drove him to question his actions during their partnership. Something had made her write the damned letter and he wanted to know what it was. He had to know what it was. He could not risk that he ever did it again.

He could not risk losing her.

_What I'll do anyway,_ he thought miserably. _I'll lose her because I was too stupid to interpret the signs I found, the messages he sent. I'll lose her because I thought that I would be able to figure him out like I did with all the others…_

Goren choked back a dry sob. His throat was tight and his tongue furry. Thinking about what he was about to lose forever made his chest close and his heart race.

_I'll lose her because I was stupid enough to be taken by the killer… because he'll… t-torture me… to death._

Desperately he tried to conjure up his memories of her before his inner eye. The pictures were blurry and he had trouble focusing on them.

That his memories of her faded tore his heart to pieces because there was this one thing he had not wanted to admit to himself when he still had a chance to do it right, before he was robbed of a future he himself could have designed…

That he was in love with his partner.

xxx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

After the discovery of the bugging devices a short night's sleep in the crib was out of the question for the detectives who were back at their desks, brooding over files and making phone calls instead. When someone entered the major case bullpen they got up and followed the newcomer to the task room where Stabler and Benson were so engrossed in their research that they did not notice the tall blonde who now had entered.

"Wow," she said staring at the board.

Both the detectives' heads shot up. Stabler recognized her but, annoyingly, could not come up with a name right away.

"What are you doing here, agent…?" he asked.

"Spade," she filled in the blank without hesitation, "Samantha Spade. I was asked to check if you got the same information we have."

"What information is that?"

"We have a new missing person," she said.

"Who?" Eames demanded to know, pushing the FBI agent unceremoniously aside so as not to have to squeeze in past her. Not far behind her followed captain Deakins. Before Sam could continue he told his detectives,

"She's right, I just got a call that a possible abduction was witnessed."

"Her name is Allison Chalmers," Sam told them, leaving the captain no time to catch a breath. "She's a resident of the same apartment building Goren lives in. So she fits the new profile."

The agent did not let show if she already knew about that change or if she just picked this information up from the board. Eames decided to challenge her.

"The new profile?"

"Yeah, according to this chart here," she pointed at the corresponding sheet on the board, "the killer switched to choosing victims who have a connection to Goren. He made it personal. What is confusing me is that he took another victim even as he carried the _game_ to another level by taking Goren prisoner."

Skeptically Eames frowned at her.

"It's not the first time that he's taken more than one victim," Rick Simon threw in.

Sam looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, asking, "And you are…?"

"Rick Simon, P.I.," he told her. "My office has been investigating the case of the Locust for years now."

Hearing that the FBI agent raised her brows questioningly.

"You are the agent at whose apartment Miss Montagnolo was found," Rick said. "You found her, right?"

"Yes."

"Can we come back to the fresh news?" Deakins asked visibly annoyed. "That might be our best lead."

"Why are you really here, Agent Spade?" Stabler demanded to know. "To take over the case?"

"So far we won't," Sam simply said. "We are interested, though, because we were working the Montagnolo case, but Major Case will keep it for now." A small smile played around her lips. Producing a picture taken from security footage she said, "There were minimal signs of struggle at her apartment when one of her neighbors came over to ask for the proverbial cup of sugar and found the door standing open. He went looking for her and saw a dark van leave the curb."

"You don't want to tell us that you're only here to give us the information about Goren's missing neighbor?" Stabler prodded.

Sam grinned sourly.

"He's only a few hours ahead this time," Sam said. "Maybe less. We gotta give it a shot."

"Let's join in," Logan piped up excitedly. "That's a chance!"

"Okay," Deakins agreed. "You and Barek, Munch and… Fin. Go!"

"What about us?" Eames exclaimed, suppressing a downright shriek. It was all she could do not to sound as desperate and eager as she felt. "What shall we do? Sit and twiddle our thumbs?"

"You'll wait for Det. Messer," Deakins told her bluntly. Despite all her efforts he naturally noticed her anguish. _I hope that I won't have to take her off the case._

"Anything else you want to share with us, agent Spade?" Deakins turned to Sam.

"No."

"Okay, so don't let me keep you."

The four detectives he had named rose from their seats and left together with the FBI agent.

"You'll get your chance, Alex," Deakins said compassionately as soon as the others were gone. "Maybe earlier than you'd expect."

Right on cue Danny Messer returned with more equipment and his colleague Stella Bonasera in tow. Looking around for the captain they first came to the task room.

"Where was it hidden?" Deakins asked.

"In one of the model cars," Messer replied.

"And on our desk?" Eames wanted to know. "Where did he hide it there?"

"I'll show you," Messer said and led the way back to Eames and Goren's desks. Sweeping the tabletop with one of his meters Messer finally turned his attention to the Santa coffee mug in the middle of their conjoined desks. After peering at the pens Messer finally picked one out of the mug and held it up for the cops to see, putting a finger over his lips, reminding them to be quiet.

Eames swallowed. She never would have thought that that was a bug. _Are you sure?_ she mouthed silently and the forensic scientist nodded.

Bonasera already plied with another instrument and slowly walked out of the squad room. Deakins was the first who followed her and the others trudged after. Not far down the hall Bonasera vanished through a door into a maintenance room. Between all the different boxes and cables she found what she was looking for.

"The transmitter," she said. "From here the signal's sent."

"The signal of the pen?" Eames asked.

"I think of both bugs."

"Can you trace it?" Benson wanted to know.

"We'll find out." Messer handled another device and took measurements. "It sends a signal to a receiver."

"Yeah," Bonasera added, "but it can't be that far away. It must be in a relatively close radius."

"How close is close?" Stabler threw in. He had the other case Munch mentioned earlier in the back of his mind. They had found the receiver not two blocks away.

"300 to 500 yards, I guess," Messer said. "He used this transmitter because the bugs alone could not send that far. It amplifies the signal."

"So what are you telling us?" Eames gasped. "That his hideaway's just around the corner?"

"It could be," Bonasera said. "But I wouldn't expect it."

"It could just be the receiver, sending the signal on to God-knows-where," Stabler grumbled.

"Yeah."

"We still need to find it," Deakins declared. "Maybe you can trace the parts back to where they were bought."

"Probably," Bonasera agreed. "We'll try with this stuff first."

"Okay. Let us know…"

"As soon as we got something. Of course, Captain."

Heading out of the room and back towards the bullpen they almost crashed into a woman who just rounded a corner with the same destination.

"Agent Spade, what are you doing back here?"

"Captain Deakins," she said. "You have a TV in your squad room?"

"Sure."

"I just got a phone call... can we go and use it?"

Deakins nodded and led the way. He switched the TV on and Sam chose the channel.

"We are on with our breaking news," the anchorman announced right then. There was a half length portrait of Goren in the left corner. "For those viewers just joining us, we're talking about the serial killer who, to our best knowledge, has murdered six women over the last couple of weeks, before he abducted a member of New York's Finest, Detective Robert Goren, a fact the killer himself made known to the public by sending explicit pictures of his victim to the press. We have elected not to show this photo because we have deemed them to be more graphic than our station's policies would allow. Those photos display a measure of inhumanity we can't and won't present to our viewers. Now, just a few minutes ago, we received important information. The police are searching for this vehicle…" The picture of Goren changed to one of a dark van. "…which has been seen at another crime scene. The license is from New York, reading PEL 123. Anyone who can give relevant information is urged to contact his local precinct. Our whole editorial and supporting staff wish the NYPD all the best in their efforts to find one of their own and in catching this very dangerous killer. This is Peter Conrad for Week Night Update. Stay tuned for our late news at eleven. Good evening!"

The news was replaced by the movie they had interrupted and Deakins turned the TV off. For another moment none of them spoke, then Benson broke the silence.

"Well, we're not alone anymore," she sighed. "Now all the nutters will call again, claiming to have seen the van… at five different places at the same time."

"But it also could get us this one call which will lead us to Bobby," Eames exclaimed.

"With enough sightings we could make up a geographic profile," A. J. threw in. "That would narrow down the possibilities of where to search for his hideaway."

"Probably," Benson mumbled, sounding not very enthusiastic.

"Okay, I need to go," Sam said and left without further explanation, the four detectives following right on foot.

"I'm just glad that they didn't show this picture again," Eames sighed. "It's bad enough that it's all over this newspaper."

"The bigger papers and magazines refrain from using it," Stabler said. "As they said on WVYS, it doesn't jive with their policies."

"Yeah… I was surprised that they actually printed it," Benson ranted. "Even with the headline across the bottom it still reveals more than ethics should allow."

"It's unjustifiable to publish such a photo!" Eames got all excited. "No reason they could give can make me understand how they could do it! Do they have any idea what they're doing to Bobby? Provided that he survives his abduction… can anyone imagine what happens to him once he's free? The media would descend on him like a plague of locusts… just to stick with the picture." Eames snarled the last words through gnashing teeth.

"At least they suffered some heavy financial loss," Deakins told them. "Many of their advertisers withdrew their orders."

"Serves them right!" Eames spat.

The others murmured their consent. Deakins granted them the moment of distraction. Soon enough they would have to focus on the case again. This search was demanding in every respect and the captain knew that they could not keep going at this pace. But right now they all were excited, knowing that they finally found a promising lead. It was a slight chance, but still a sighting of the van or the tracking of the bugs' signal might set them on the right track.

That was when the phone in Deakins' office started to ring. He took the call on the phone right next to him on the desk Benson used.

"Deakins." For a moment he listened before he confirmed, "Yes, ten minutes."

When he turned back to his detectives everyone was staring at him expectantly.

"That was Messer," he told them. "Just simple calls to the surrounding buildings' supers got CSU a hit. One firm complained to the property management that there were items on their monthly telephone check the phone company could not explain. The firm claimed that there was some technical problem and wanted to have it solved. Unfortunately nothing could be found. Probably we can… meet Messer in eight minutes at the labs. Then you'll go together with the CSU team."

He did not have to tell them twice. Grabbing their jackets from chairs and stands the detectives stormed out of the bullpen.

tbc…


	23. Chapter 22

The Locust

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Hello! Thanks for your reviews. Thanks for the new story alerts, too. I know that the investigation was going slow for the last chapters, and I hope that I haven't lost you on that way. I'm optimistic that the plot is picking up pace now. I know that it can take days and weeks until a DNA test is completed, but for Bobby's sake let's just pretend that the forensics are as fast as they are on the CSI show. I also have to express thanks to my friend _JO_ who broke my writer's block by writing a basic version of one of the detective's scenes. Hugs to you. ;) I think we two and _Infinity Star_ were discussing DNA for three evenings in a row. LOL Thanks also to my beta. Everyone, enjoy. :)

**22**

Humming the melody of one of his favorite songs he was fumbling with a few cables. Every now and then he had to check on his equipment. Usually it was reliable and he put a lot of trust in it, but still… you could not be careful enough. It was better to have a look at it periodically.

_Everything's okay,_ he thought and plugged a red cable back in. _At least with this stuff here everything's fine. If only everything else would also be so easy to handle…_

Thoughtfully he rubbed his chin. There was so much on his mind he had to sort out.

_Bobby did not react as strongly as I expected him to. I thought that the letter would have a deeper impact on him. Given how fixated and devoted he is to Alex it should have been devastating._

That was not the only thing that was bothering him. For another moment he refused to think about it and used the time to finish his work on the computer parts.

_Another chip in there… yeah, now it should work._

He put his tools away and closed the bag. Then he leaned back and allowed his thoughts to trail off.

_This should be a fun game. Allison's a nice girl. I picked the best for him. He won't be able to resist._

An evil smirk cracked his expressionless features.

_Yeah, Bobby, just for you. Everything's just for you._

Then his thoughts returned to an earlier topic and the smirk vanished. He sighed.

_Wish I could include Elliot in the game. He'd be an interesting gambling partner, too._

Suddenly he yawned, deep and long. It took him by surprise. Usually he did not get tired so easily.

_Must be the long drive. I have to cross quite a distance each time. But it's the best solution…_

Leaning against the wall he closed his eyes. He could relax for a while. No one would find him here. So he sat into the corner of the room, his head resting against the wall, and fell asleep.

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

From where they had met with Danny Messer the detectives went with the forensic scientist out of the building right across Pearl Street and through the first entrance on the Chatham Greene Houses.

"Here?" Stabler asked.

"It's as good as any other location," Messer replied. "When I was calling and asking about service personnel working on the electric or communication system I was told that they recently had problems with their telephones."

"Hmmm."

They went to the janitor's apartment where they were greeted by a grumpy looking man in a coverall who squinted through the gap the chain on the door allowed.

"Hi, I'm Danny Messer. We were talking on the phone a few minutes ago, Mr. Sutton."

"Yeah, we were," he grumbled. "What exactly can I do for you, officer?"

"These are the detectives Eames and Stabler," Messer introduced them, too. "Your telephone problems… what's not working and how did you notice?"

"Well, everything's working perfectly well, but we have discrepancies in our invoice. A few weeks ago we got something repaired and since then our internet worked better but there's an item on our invoice that wasn't there before. And I'm not the only one, a guy on third floor complained about having no wireless access to the internet."

"Can you elaborate?" Eames asked.

"Well, we're paying too much. It looks as if there'd be another line that wasn't there before," the janitor explained.

"Who did the repair?" Messer prodded.

"Just some guy with the cable company, I think. Mr. Weinstein called his provider and they sent him here." He became thoughtful. "You could ask him. He's down there."

"He's here?" Eames gasped.

"Yeah, when I met him in the hall Mr. Haley just told me that he saw the repair guy go down into the cellar."

"Show us where he's working," Stabler demanded.

Mr. Sutton did not look as if he was about to move.

"I mean right now," the SVU detective added and so Sutton closed the door, unlocked the chain and slipped out of his apartment to lead the way down to the basement again and from there into the cellar.

xXx

Suddenly he was startled out of his sleep.

He could not tell what awoke him, he just knew that from one second to the other he came back to his senses, straightening up and hitting his head on one of the cases on the wall. For just a moment he did not know where he was and when he realized it he cursed himself.

_I shouldn't have fallen asleep,_ he admonished himself. _I don't want to throw my schedule off._

Rubbing the hurting spot on his head he leaned back for just another moment.

_Hell, that hurts! Shit!_

Once more he checked what he had done. Somehow he felt like a sleepwalker. His short nap did not result in him being more rested. He felt even more tired than before which annoyed him.

_I shouldn't be tired. I had my share of sleep! Dammit!_

Sounds made him look up and turn his head toward the source. No, he was not alone in here.

Packing his stuff he went to go and check it out.

xXx

Danny Messer was directly behind Mr. Sutton who led them down into the cellar. They walked up the long hall. There at the end they saw light in one of the rooms. A big form moved there.

Eames just saw the shadow dancing on the opposite wall and adrenalin shot into her veins.

_Is it possible that this is the fake Kirkpatrick? Could we have sheer luck and get the perv we're searching? Can this be the one? Or is he still out there? Somewhere in the city? Bobby said something about wide pastures… God! Where's Bobby? Where is he?!_

Even though they did not know who they would meet over there the cops were tense. Stabler's hand lay on the butt of his weapon. Benson had opened her jacket in order to reach her holster fast in case that she needed to.

Slowly and carefully the detectives approached the room. Stabler signaled Sutton to stay behind him. He was the first to reach the entrance.

"Sir?" he said. "NYPD. What are you doing here?"

xXx

Following the sound he went to the wall opposite his computers.

There she was, shaking like a leaf. Her eyes fearfully widened she stared up at him from her position on the cold concrete floor.

"Please," she begged, her voice sounding hoarse. "Why don't you let me go? I won't tell anybody. I promise."

"No can do," he told her and pulled his big knife out of its sheath. "You'll have to take your place in the game."

"Please… no…"

Her voice cracked. Right in front of her eyes she saw the shining blade of his knife. Then he moved it along her body to the ankles and cut the adhesive tape he had wrapped over and over around her lower legs. Her wrists still were bound behind her back.

He pulled her to her feet and dragged her over to the massive steel door she had already spotted. She also had seen the bunch of computer stuff, the steep stairs and another door, probably leading to where he had his bed.

Allison Chalmers tried to resist when he put the key in the lock and turned it. For a moment she distracted him and that made him furious. She knew that for sure when he spun around, staring at her, his face a grimace of rage.

Then he slapped her, hard. Backwards she fell to the floor where she stayed.

"Don't try that again, bitch," he spat. "You try that and I'll have to hurt you."

Obediently she nodded.

Then he turned and went into the other room, closing the steel door behind him.

xXx

"Whoa!" the man in the cellar cried out in surprise, his hands shooting up defensively in front of him as he spotted the guns. "Cool it! I just check on the telephones!"

Eames knew at once that this was not their guy and she let her hand sink. Stabler followed her example.

"Can I see ID?" the SVU detective asked anyway.

"Sure," the man rushed to assure him. "Um… gotta take it out of my jacket…"

"That's okay, go ahead," Eames told him.

So he did as he was asked and gave Stabler his driver's license. Thoughtfully Stabler nodded. The ID read Jeffery Dillard.

"Whoever squealed on me… I don't work here, I'm just doing Carl a favor."

"Carl?"

"Carl Weinstein. He has an apartment here on third floor."

"Today's your lucky day, Mr. Dillard. We're not going to arrest you for tampering with the phone company's equipment," Stabler told him. "But we should talk anyway. Let's go up to your friend."

"Okay…" Dillard took back his license and packed his stuff.

"That's not the same man," Sutton told Benson. "The guy who was here the last time was older."

"Did you find anything unusual, Mr. Dillard?" Messer chimed in now.

"Jeff's okay with me and yeah, I did." Turning around he pointed at some cables. "These shouldn't be there."

"Where are they going to?"

"I couldn't find out yet… you interrupted me."

Messer smirked up at him and then eyed the cables curiously, pulling on a pair of gloves.

"I just identified them," Dillard told him. "They run into the box over there."

"Thanks." Carefully the forensic scientist examined the box before he opened it. Inside he found a laptop which was connected with a bunch of cables going in and out of the case.

"What's that?" Dillard wanted to know.

"That's what we were looking for." Messer reached inside of the case and disconnected the laptop to take it with him.

"Why was it there?" Dillard asked.

"That's none of your business," Stabler replied harshly. "Come on, let's talk to your friend."

While Sutton returned to his own apartment the detectives and Dillard went to Weinstein's apartment. After a short moment's wait a man in his thirties opened the door for them.

"Oh, Jeff. What's up?" he asked.

"NYPD," Eames presented her badge. "I'm detective Eames, detectives Benson and Stabler. Can we come in?"

"Sure. Is something wrong?"

"We just have a few questions," Eames told him as they settled down on the couch in the living room.

"Can I offer you something to drink?"

"No, thank you. We just would like to know when you asked your provider to send someone to install your wireless internet. Who did you talk to and who was here?"

"Who did I talk to… a service guy. He was making the right connections and it finally worked."

"Do you remember his name?"

"Nah."

"Would you recognize him?" Benson asked.

"Hmmm, I think so. After he was done it worked, but I got charged with services I never used. That's why I asked Jeff to have a look at it. He's a computer scientist with XTraTron."

"Hm hmm. Do you recognize one of these men?" Benson wanted to know and held out a card with six pictures to him.

"That's the one," Weinstein said, pointing at the shot of the fake Kirkpatrick.

The detectives looked at each other knowingly. Now they had confirmation. But actually that did not help very much. They finished their interview and asked both men to come with them to the major case office to take their statements.

xXx

**unknown location**

At some time Goren could not determine his captor had released him from the cage. Once more he now lay on the concrete, his shackled hands chained to a ring in the floor. Well, at least he could stretch his sore limbs.

Though it did not feel like it time was passing mercilessly. Goren's only mean to measure it were his breaths. And he knew that with every breath he took his chances for being rescued became smaller and smaller. The first 48 hours were crucial for finding a missing person. Every cop knew that.

_Had the FBI gotten involved by now?_ Goren wondered. _It's possible that Malone's team took over the investigation, especially as agent Spade got included in the game._

Hearing the key turn in the lock interrupted his musings and he took a deep breath to prepare himself for whichever evil deeds his captor had in mind, even though he doubted that he could imagine what possibly lay ahead for him.

"Hey, Bobby! Did you miss me?" Kirkpatrick purred when he opened one of the padlocks.

Goren spared himself the effort to look up at him. He did not reply either.

"You have to move a bit," Kirkpatrick said. "I need this place here."

With some effort he dragged Goren to his feet and over to the wall. Now the detective leaned against it with his back, staring at his captor out of weary eyes.

"So, what do you prefer? Overhead? Spread eagle? Or behind your back?"

He just got a tired stare as an answer.

So Kirkpatrick grabbed a chain and fastened it to Goren's shackle before he opened the lock that held the wrists together. Now he shortened the chain until his captive's arms were secured above his head in a spread position. He went over to his supplies to come back with a bottle.

"Here ya go, Bobby," he cheered, pressing the bottle to the detective's lips.

Goren did not make any fuss anymore. He appreciated the cool water that ran down his dry throat. It helped him to keep at least some strength. Despite his captor's efforts to destroy his faith he was still counting on his colleagues to finally catch Kirkpatrick, so he had to hold out. Still he cherished this hope… the hope that Eames proved to everyone that her trust in him was justified. It was the only thing that kept him from giving up and dying.

His logical mind told him something else entirely. Seeing that he still was trapped in this damned cellar, accompanied only by a sadistic serial killer, he knew that he was going to die. Since his attempt to escape Kirkpatrick was more than cautious. He always made sure that at least one chain was fastened to either one of Goren's wrists or ankles… better both.

Now he was chained up against the wall waiting for whatever the pervert had in store for him.

"Open up, Bobby," Kirkpatrick ordered, reaching for his mouth, the ball gag in hand.

Of course Goren refused. He turned his head away in a futile attempt to avoid the unavoidable.

"C'mon, Bobby!" Kirkpatrick scolded. "Take it! The only thing you're achieving is to cause you pain!"

And he grabbed his chin to push the ball in. He just had closed the straps and was about to leave when he turned to face Bobby again. For a moment he watched his chained toy then he slowly shuffled back to him.

"On second thought… you might want to try and talk me out of it."

_Talk you out of what?_

"That might be interesting…"

_Out of what?!_ Goren really was curious what Kirkpatrick had planned now. More misery, he was sure of that, but what exactly.

Low chuckles accompanied the killer's fingers when he untied the gag and pulled it out.

"You'll see, Bobby, you'll see."

Still chuckling he went out.

Goren's insides constricted and chills ran over his head and down his back when he heard a woman scream.

This time he was sure that it was not a recording.

Even worse, he was sure that he knew the voice.

Next moment Kirkpatrick came back in, the hair of a woman in his firm grip, pulling her inside and forcing her down to the ground where Goren had been lying before. She whimpered when he straddled her to have both hands free to put her wrists into some shackles. Not much later she found herself bound to the floor with her limbs spread like the arms of a starfish.

Goren's heart dropped into his stomach when he finally could see her face. This was Allison, one of his neighbors!

"I hope you like the company," Kirkpatrick chuckled. "I chose an especially pretty one."

When he got up and went over to Goren, Allison turned her head. She gasped when she recognized her neighbor.

"Bobby!"

"Yeah, Bobby," Kirkpatrick snickered. "I guess she asks for your help. What a pity that you have to disappoint her."

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Inwardly Logan cursed. There was no lead left right now and given the fact that a whole bunch of FBI agents were running after the damned van which seemed to have vanished from the face of the Earth he decided to leave Munch and Tutuola with accompanying agent Spade while he and Barek returned to One Police Plaza.

When they arrived they were greeted by Deakins, "Grab a phone!"

They did not have to ask why, because each detective who was on a line was talking about the same thing, a dark van.

"Shit," Logan muttered. "That was the breaking news."

"Guess so," Barek agreed and sank into her office chair. "Hey, Cap! Where's Eames?"

"Interviewing two guys," Deakins replied. "Fake PI was repairing an internet connection for him, or better, he added one for himself."

"For the transmitter," Logan mused.

"Yeah. The receiver picked up the signal and a laptop sent it on via internet."

"So he can be anywhere," Barek sighed. "He just needs another computer with internet access." Taking a deep breath she looked at their captain again. "How's Eames doing?"

Deakins glanced at the interview room. "Looks as if she picked up her courage again."

"Good."

"If neither the calls nor the interview result in another lead I still want you to rest for a while in the crib," the captain told them. "It doesn't do any good if our lead detectives are overtired. It would slow us down more than a short night's sleep."

"Yes, sir," Logan grumbled with grudging respect. He knew that Deakins was right and felt his own fatigue, but he was not ready to resign to it yet.

His phone rang and he answered it, listening intently to the caller's tale. Sometimes he directed a bit with questions.

"Where? And when was that? Yeah, like what?"

This was not the only call he got. Logan filled two pages of his notebook with hints on the dark van. Unfortunately not one of the leads sounded promising. Then Logan saw two men leave the interview room together with a uniformed officer who would guide them out. Eames, Stabler and Benson went over to the task room.

So Logan tried to get his partner's attention and tilting his head he prompted her to come with him. When they entered the task room, too, Deakins was right on their heels.

"Okay... what do you have?"

"A number of nutheads claiming to have seen the van. There aren't many valuable hints and the leads which sounded credible were cold," Logan told him. "I spoke with Fin a few minutes ago. They don't have a lead either."

"You couldn't find anything?" Deakins asked.

"Nope, that's why we came back." Logan shrugged. "What about you, Alex?"

"Well, Weinstein, the guy with the computer problems, he had called his cable company to ask and send someone who could check the internet connection that didn't work. In short, Mr. Weinstein identified the fake Kirkpatrick as the man who was working on said cables. That's where we were looking for the receiver of the bug's signal and we found it in the cellar. It was connected to the internet. No trace to follow, but Messer's checking the laptop."

"Okay. Anything else?"

The detectives remained silent. Right now none of them had important news.

"Okay, then you'll take a break. I'll expect you back in five hours…" he looked at his watch, "…from now."

Someone knocked on the door. It was detective Garner who put his head through the door.

"A call on line three for you, Cap," he said and was gone again.

So Deakins picked up the phone to answer the call, "Deakins… Oh, Dr. Grissom. What did your examinations reveal?" Then he listened intently.

Eames pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to stifle a yawn. That the last lead also did not get them closer to finding her partner made her feel her fatigue.

"I hope that he won't get nervous when he sees that we're searching for the van," she sighed. "I hate the thought that we endanger Bobby further by making it public, even as he was the one who sent this horrible picture to the press."

Barek was tempted to put her arm around Eames' shoulders, but she hesitated to do that in front of their colleagues.

"You know, Caro, what we have said about the killer probably becoming insecure because he's developing his own MO for the first time… That scares me. When he's feeling overstrained he might take it out on Bobby. He might just kill him."

No one wanted to think that, yet couldn't deny it.

"Linked to another crime?" Deakins repeated." Yeah, I see. Well, I think it's not unusual for rape victims to be reluctant to talk about their experiences, especially if they were living a promiscuous lifestyle at the time of the attack. They're afraid people will think they're asking for it."

Out of the corner of his eye Deakins saw Benson and Stabler nod their confirmation.

"Oh yeah, I see… What was the victim's name?... Come again?" For a moment Deakins fell silent, then the forensic scientist on the other end obviously pushed for an answer, because the captain rushed to say, "Yeah, that name's familiar… I see…

"Really?" Deakins replied in surprise. "That's very interesting… Yes, I know the case well… Detective Goren handled it himself."

At the mention of Goren's name, every head in the room snapped around to eavesdrop on the rest of the captain's phone call.

"Here in New York, too?... Really?" His astonishment became obvious in his tone. "Thank you very much, Dr. Grissom. You've been more help than you know."

Deakins ended the call but did not put the receiver down. Instead he called the crime lab and asked for Mack Taylor.

xXx

**unknown location**

Once he had her helpless on the concrete floor Kirkpatrick produced a big knife and started to cut away Allison's clothes.

Horrified Goren could do nothing but watch as the killer stripped her clothes off. In vain he strained against his shackles even though he knew that he would not stand the slightest chance of getting free. With a weird feeling of pride he noticed that she did not make a single sound.

Instead she just looked at him, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Poor Bobby," Kirkpatrick taunted. "You would love to help her, right? Play hero for her? Tsk, tsk, tsk…guess you'll have to pass this time."

Deliberately slowly he shoved the blade under her panties to cut them with a quick move upwards. Reaching between her legs he grabbed the fabric and pulled the last barrier away.

"Hmmm… isn't she pretty?" Kirkpatrick asked, smirking at Goren. "Such a beauty."

With that he brought the blade down on her left shin. It left an ugly red line from where blood trickled down the leg's curve.

Allison whimpered as the knife cut her skin open. Crying out she wound in her bonds when Kirkpatrick then buried the blade in her calf.

"No! Stop it!" Goren yelled. His chains were clanking when he pulled on them in an unsuccessful attempt to get away.

"Why should I?"

Kirkpatrick chuckled and drew the blade over Allison's right upper arm.

"Nooo!"

"I didn't even get started, Bobby!" Kirkpatrick laughed.

"Just stop it," Goren murmured. Allison was still looking at him. He knew that these eyes would haunt him forever, however long forever might be for him.

"What do I get instead?"

_Oh, shit!_

Goren's stomach did flip flops. _That can't be true. That's not happening. No way!_

"Wh-what do you want?" Goren croaked. Suddenly his knees were weak and he felt tremors pass through his body. So he did not really care how he sounded.

"Nothing you couldn't give me," Kirkpatrick told him.

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you when we come to it."

Goren definitely did not like the way the killer smirked at him. Whatever he had in mind it was something he, Goren, would less than not like.

"First condition is that you won't try to defend her. You'll be obedient and will do whatever I tell you to do. Deal?"

Swallowing hard Goren could not answer aloud. Almost imperceptible he nodded his consent to the unknown wishes he would have to comply to. All he could think about was Allison and that he had to save her life, somehow.

Kirkpatrick got out his keys and opened Goren's shackles. As promised the detective did not move. Actually he did not really feel strong enough to try and do anything. When he tried to make a step away from the wall he stumbled and sank to the ground.

"So, are you prepared to pay for her life?" Kirkpatrick asked.

Goren just stared at Allison, her frightened eyes, widened and pleading, and nodded.

Kirkpatrick looked down at Goren. "Well, Bobby, you have to really satisfy me if you want to buy her freedom."

One look at the widening eyes of the detective told him that he had expected anything but that. He bowed forward to whisper in his ear, "I sure as hell will break each and every tooth out of your fucking mouth if you try to bite."

Goren suddenly felt very sick to his stomach when Kirkpatrick opened his belt and let his pants slide down.

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Deakins hung up the phone and turned to face his detectives. No one even bothered to ask what the news was, they did not want to delay him from telling them, and the excitement in his voice was enough for them to realize that he would tell them immediately.

"Dr. Grissom got some interesting results on the DNA from the crime scene in Las Vegas. Seems the killer's DNA is a match to a semen sample taken off a tourist who reported a rape in 2003," he said.

Turning to Benson and Stabler because sex crimes were their purview, he continued explaining, "When he looked up the case file, he discovered that it was still unsolved. So he talked to the detective who worked it. Detective Zimmer told him the victim was particularly uncommunicative, or better _selective-communicative_ as if she had something to hide and was trying to manipulate the investigation somehow."

"Something to hide?" Stabler said with a puzzled frown. He looked at his partner, who also looked perplexed, and she said, "Manipulate the investigation?"

They shared a shrug and Stabler told them all, "We get a false complaint every now and then, and when we do it often turns out to be an attempt to hide a wild one-night-stand. It's not that common, but it's not unheard of, either."

"I guess if she were making something up to get revenge on an ex-boyfriend or explain the bruises from said wild one-night-stand, she'd want to appear serious about her accusations but steer the investigators away from the man she actually had sex with," Benson added. "So it sounds convincing if Zimmer said that she tried to manipulate him."

"Well, detective Zimmer harbored the opinion that the victim only reported the crime because she was pushed by her fiancé. He came to Las Vegas for a symposium and she accompanied him. She claimed that she was assaulted in her hotel room. Further questioning did not reveal much about the assailant."

"You said you'd know the name… Who was the victim?" Barek asked.

"The future Mrs. Gavin Haynes, Eliza…"

"…beth Hitchens," Eames completed her captain's sentence. Though her vision was blurred with fatigue, she had no trouble interpreting the concerned expression on her captain's face. Combined with the woman's reappearance in New York it was more than enough to alert her. "Nicole Wallace." All color drained off Eames' face, but she appeared agitated all the same.

Stabler and Benson had heard the name mentioned, but they didn't understand the galvanizing effect it had on their colleagues.

"Maybe that assault was not coincidental," Logan suggested. "After all that I've heard about Nicole she could have been in touch with this guy before she and Gavin came to Las Vegas. Maybe he was supposed to help her to get together with Haynes. Probably she was beaten up because they disagreed about their plan."

"Their plan?" Eames wondered aloud. "Nicole doesn't know the words _we_ and _our_. All she knows is _I_ and _mine_. She uses her lovers to get what she wants and then disposes of them." Her voice was slightly shaking. "She's here in New York. She was found cuffed to a radiator after a man called 911 and claimed he'd caught a fugitive. She told Bobby that the arch each body's forming would be a bridge, _love can build a bridge_. She did not interpret information she read or heard somewhere, she knows this guy!"

"Actually I called Taylor because Las Vegas got a second match," Deakins threw in.

"What? Where?"

"The case Jackson and Kendall are working," the captain explained. "It matches the same case in Las Vegas."

"Didn't you give them Nicole's case?" Logan queried.

"Yes," Deakins confirmed.

"How exactly are the cases connected? I mean, how did our killer's DNA get involved?"

"I guess he was the one who sent us Nicole as a gift basket, Mike," Eames grumbled. "We gotta talk to her again."

Deakins nodded and said, "I'll call Rikers and get her transported here ASAP. Anything you need, just say so."

"I'm gonna refresh my memories," Eames said. "Okay, Mike, please ask Jackson and Kendall if they have anything new on her, known associates, aliases, you know all the stuff. Caro, I'd like to prepare the interrogation with you." She glanced at Deakins who looked at her skeptically but then nodded his consent. Looking at Stabler and Benson next, Eames asked, "Could you two find out what hotel she stayed in, what flights she took to and from Las Vegas, where her inbound flight originated, where the outbound flight terminated, and passenger manifests for both flights."

Benson nodded, recognizing the urgency in the other woman's voice. Stabler was already moving toward his phone to start making the necessary calls, but he had to ask, "Is anyone going to enlighten us as to who this woman is?"

Eames gave them an ironic smirk and said, "She's Bobby's own personal Moriarty."

xXx

**unknown location**

It was back into the cage for him.

Sitting slumped over in one corner, Goren felt very sick. He had this coppery smell in his nose and there was no way to get rid of it.

Alone in the darkness, just the chains as company, he could delve in his despair. With blood all over him and not remembering how it came to be there, he felt sick beyond belief.

_I don't have any chance. He's intent on killing me… so why don't I give him a reason and let him do it the next time he's coming?_

When he had been pushed back in there, he had been in a trance like state. Until now that had not changed much.

Goren was devastated. He had not even a vague memory of what had happened, but he sensed that it was monstrous. The smell of blood assaulted his sensitive nose and threatened to turn his stomach.

_It's all my fault. For once I mixed up self-confidence with stupidity… and Kirkpatrick's on the spot to make me pay for it._

His thoughts trailed back to Alex and the letter that had thrown him off balance thoroughly. Feelings fought against knowledge and he had no idea which might win.

_What happened? It just happened, so why don't I remember? What has he done? What has he made me do? What?!_

Choking back a sob he now gasped for breath.

_He spoke about my choices… Did he force me to make a choice? What kind of choice?_

With the smell of blood still in his nose all he could imagine was that it was his own, but he did not feel pain other than the throbbing in his foot and the burning of his wrists and ankles. His ribcage hurt and his head was aching. But there was no open wound from where the blood could be.

_But it can't be his blood either…_ Goren was confused. _What could the choice have been? Whatever it was, it sure has made me suffer. Suffer what?_ He felt lightheaded and thinking became harder and harder, not only because his stomach had long given up to churn with hunger. _If I fight too much I lose strength and when I don't play along and bore him he might just kill me…_

Grief tightened his throat and he felt a heavy icy lump form in his gut. For the first time since his incarceration he allowed himself to cry.

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

By the time two officers arrived with the prisoner, Eames had talked with Logan and Kendall and gotten the requested information from Stabler and Benson. Taylor also had been up there on eleventh floor and had presented evidence that made Nicole's whole connection to the case appear in a new light.

Now Eames sat a second time together with Barek making a rough plan for the coming interrogation.

"I hope we can crack her," Eames sighed. "Nicole's the best lead we have right now. If she doesn't talk…" She did not dare to finish her sentence.

Barek knew what she meant anyway.

"She'll talk, Alex," she tried to encourage her colleague. "She will."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Eames said skeptically. "She didn't want to reveal who cuffed her to the radiator, even though she must have been mad as hell at him. I know I'd be."

"What do you know about what she has told Bobby?"

"Not much. Just this line about the posture _being a bridge, not an arch_. We wanted to talk with her again and when Bobby got abducted we forgot about it. I just forgot it! God! If she has vital information and I didn't even try to get it… time's ticking, Caro! It's running out for him."

There she said it.

Barek smiled at her compassionately and said, "You'll get what we need from her now."

"I wish I could share your confidence."

"Hey, Alex, chin up." She got a dark glower in return instead. "I know it's easy to say and I fear for your partner, too, but you really should lure out the optimistic and snarky Alex Eames now. Then you'll break her."

"Oh, Caro. I hope you're right."

Taking a deep breath she stood up from her chair. Together with Barek she went to Interrogation 1. In front of the door she stopped, her hand already on the handle. Eames knew that not only Deakins was in the observation room but also Stabler, Benson and Logan. They all wanted to know what Nicole would say.

_Please, I have to do this right,_ she thought, took another deep breath and pushed the door open. She walked in, sat in one of the chairs with her back to the big mirror and waited for Barek to close the door and sit beside her.

"Hello, Detective Eames," Nicole greeted her. Curiously the blonde eyed Barek, trying to judge her. "Where's Bobby?"

"I'm not sorry, Miss Wallace, but you'll have to talk with detective Barek and me," Eames told her.

"What a bummer. I'm afraid that I can't talk at all if Bobby doesn't lead the interview."

"For your information, this is not an interview. This is an interrogation." Threateningly she fixated Nicole with her gaze. "And I can imagine why you'd prefer to talk with Detective Goren, because your sexual experiences in your daddy's bed made you an expert at reading and manipulating men and needy young women, but you're afraid a normal, well-adjusted woman will see you for the cunning bitch you really are."

"If I'm really so transparent to you, then perhaps we should wait for my lawyer," Nicole replied.

"So that you can manipulate him, too?" Eames asked. "Do you pay him in cash or does he take his fee in trade? How long will he live if he should manage to keep you out of jail?"

"I really wonder what kind of a distorted picture you have of me."

"The one you're showing us, _Miss_ Wallace," Barek told her.

Nicole just snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.

Both detectives paused a moment for effect before Eames started their questioning.

"For your information, Miss Wallace, we're not going to talk about Bernard Freemont. That murder is the case of detectives Jackson and Kendall now. We're investigating another case."

"Which would be, Detective?" Nicole asked just to say something at all. She was already getting bored. "What can be so important that you had to drag me out of my cell in the middle of the night?"

"We would like to know who was so courteous to subdue and cuff you for us to collect," Barek said, sounding almost uninterested.

"Detective… Barek was it?" Nicole purred. "For over four hours your colleagues tried to learn more about him or her, but all I can say is that I don't know who it was."

"As much as you don't know who raped you in Las Vegas not long before you married Gavin Haynes?" Eames queried, not even bothering looking up from her file.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Now Eames was so gracious as to look up at her. Her voice was indifferent when she continued, "You see, Miss Wallace, as often as his DNA is connected with your appearance, we don't believe that it just happened to be where it was found at random."

"And still it must have happened exactly like that, coincidentally."

"I see." Eames nodded. "So the doctor just hit on his DNA in your vagina during the rape examination?"

"Well, that happens if you are raped, _Detective Eames_," Nicole snapped. "I hope for you that you'll be spared this experience."

Eames nodded.

"So it's not possible that you accused your sex partner of raping you only because you were about to marry Mr. Haynes?" she pushed. "And because you were accompanying your fiancé to a symposium he was attending?"

"Did you read the report, Detective?" Nicole leaned forward over the table, piercing Eames with her gaze. "I was badly bruised after being _raped_ by this lowlife."

"And I would've thought that Mr. Haynes was very upset and angry when he dragged you to the police."

"Gavin didn't drag me," Nicole snarled.

"Well, the detective who took your statement was under the impression that Mr. Haynes was the one pushing you to give a description of the guy." Eames eyed her intently even though she did not give that impression. "But it wouldn't be in your interest if Mr. Haynes found out that you cheated on him while he was at his meeting, so you were not very cooperative toward the police and explained your sketchy memory with shock."

"Actually I didn't see him very well," Nicole grumbled. "He came from behind and beat me, forced me down on the ground, then he raped me."

"Sure, if you say so." Eames hoped to get a stronger reaction next.

"You don't believe me?"

Eames shrugged. "Why should I? I mean, I know that you must have known him _before_ he _raped_ you."

"Then you know more than I do," Nicole interrupted her. "Why do you think you'd be so much smarter? You're not. That's Bobby's part. You should let him do the work."

Again Eames looked at her but did not let herself be baited.

"Just so that you know, Miss Wallace," Eames told her. "I'm senior partner, so I'm calling the shots, not Goren."

Now Nicole frowned at her deeply.

"And I _do_ know that our suspect was on the same flight you and Mr. Haynes took from New York to Las Vegas and that he had a room right next to yours. He also was on the same flight back to New York."

"Well, that's quite logical. This man must have been one of Gavin's colleagues. I don't remember his name, but if you have it you can arrest him now for the rape."

"Unfortunately he was _not_ a colleague of Mr. Haynes. Actually he didn't appear anywhere before he took this flight and he disappeared when you were back in New York."

"You know, Detective, now you scare me. You're not trying to tell me that he followed me from New York just to rape me in Las Vegas?"

A smug smile tugged at the corners of Nicole's mouth. This game was not as interesting as playing with Bobby, but she began to enjoy it anyway. She glanced at the dark haired detective who had only asked one question so far.

"No," Eames shot right back. "I want to tell you that he went there because he was your lover and that you never were raped but had consensual sex with this man, wild sex, so that you had to come up with a good story for your fiancé. That's why you accused your lover of rape and that's why you were so _reluctant_ to help the police, because you didn't want your lover to go to jail."

"You have a vivid imagination, Detective."

"So? Do I? Well, actually I prefer solid evidence, Miss Wallace." With that Eames produced a few papers out of the folder in front of her and shoved them over to the blonde. "These are copies of the passenger list, the hotel registration, the list of employees at Mr. Haynes company."

Though a single muscle twitched right under her left eye Nicole remained outwardly unimpressed.

"So what?"

xXx

In the observation room captain Deakins took a deep breath. This could take all night. Even then there was no guarantee that Nicole would give away the man's identity or any other useful information. It was also possible that she remained clamped like an oyster or called her lawyer. If she refused her cooperation completely they could not do a damn thing.

Unless they went with what Logan and Stabler had discussed upon entering the observation room, _to hell with policies, deny her the Miranda rights and force her to cooperate._ Deakins did not want to know what they meant with _force_ and he did not want to know. As long as he did not ask them he could assume that they just released stress with weird kind of banter.

Actually the captain was more worried about what Eames might do to the former Australian if she got no information at all about the man who held her partner captive, torturing him.

Someone knocked on the door just a second before Mack Taylor entered the room.

"Logan," he turned to the detective. "You asked Danny to run a DNA comparison test on a sample you had on a photograph, right?"

"Yeah." If Logan felt caught red-handed by the pushing tone the forensic scientist addressed him with, he did not show it.

"What led you to believe that there might be a relation?"

"Instinct?" Logan replied.

So far both men were talking in riddles, at least for Deakins, and the captain did not like that.

"Would you enlighten me as to what this test has to do with our case?" he queried.

"Sir, maybe it would be better if we could talk about that in private."

Deakins frowned at Taylor, then glowered at Logan.

"Logan, come with us," he ordered and left the observation room with the detective and the forensic in tow.

For now that left Benson and Stabler on their own. While Stabler turned at once back to the interrogation Benson stared for another moment at the closing door. Then she shook her head.

"This case is getting more weird by the minute," she said.

"Hm hmmm…"

Absently Stabler rubbed his neck. His fatigue was in his bones. Now alone with his partner he did not bother to stifle a huge yawn and he stretched his tired limbs.

"We could take a break and go to the crib until they're done here," Benson suggested. "Deakins said the same."

"No way," Stabler replied. "I want to watch this."

"Elliot…"

"Go if you want to," he cut her short. "I'll stay."

And so she remained by his side.

xXx

"Miss Wallace," Eames emphasized, "why do you still want to deny that you know the man who allegedly raped you in Las Vegas in 2003 and now drugged and betrayed you, calling the police to arrest you?"

"Because I still have no idea what you're really talking about. I don't know that guy."

Eames nodded.

"Well, you should. And I'm sure you do."

With that she shoved two more printouts under Nicole's nose, showing DNA profiles.

"What do you see?"

Nicole huffed. "There's DNA standing in the headline, but I'm not a genetic scientist, so I can only assume that those show genetic codes?"

"Yes, Miss Wallace," Eames agreed. "Those are genetic codes. This one," she tapped on the sheet, "is yours and this," she tapped on the second, "is the one of your alleged rapist."

"And?" Nicole rolled her eyes. "What are you trying to tell me now?"

"What else do you see?"

"See where? In these blotches?" Even though she sounded slightly annoyed, Nicole became edgy. Almost imperceptible she began to chew on the inside of her cheek.

But Barek noticed it.

"Yes, in these blotches here and here," Barek said, indicating what she meant by tapping at the spots with her pen. "What do you see?"

"They look the same. All this looks the same to me."

"Because it is," Barek bluntly said. "Because these DNA profiles are partial matches. They have similar loci, here and here." Once more she showed Nicole what she meant. "Parts of these DNA-sequences are identical, and that, _Miss Wallace_, tells us that your _rapist_ is related to you."

"Without wanting to talk about your father again…," Eames added. "Given your abusive history I'm not surprised at all that you're sleeping with your cousin."

"What does surprise us," Barek jumped on the same train, "is that you're so adamantly protecting that snake in the grass even after he ratted on you."

"What's your motive, _Miss Wallace_? Do you love him? Do you love him so much that you're risking your life by remaining reticent about his identity?"

Now they gave Nicole some time to collect her thoughts and word an answer, but not too much time.

"Is it love? _Love can build a bridge_. That's what you said to Detective Goren. We know you were talking about your cousin…"

Her flow was interrupted when the door opened and Jackson held out a file to her. As suddenly as he came in he was gone again. Eames opened the folder and had a short look at the printouts inside.

"Your cousin Randolph Cockrill is killing young women, _Miss Wallace_." Now Eames' disdain was clearly audible. "He abducts them, tortures them, rapes them, kills them, and disposes of them in a posture you're telling Goren is not an arch but a bridge. Explain to us why it's a bridge."

"Why don't you find out for yourselves? I would've thought that Bobby already figured it out." Her words were dripping with sarcasm.

"What's his reason to kill?" Barek simply asked. "Why is he torturing young women to death?"

"He doesn't need a reason to kill," Nicole snarled. "Killing's in his nature. He's a wild beast that can't be tamed. He knows what he wants and he's taking it."

"That's why you adore him, right?" Eames told her bluntly. She was standing opposite of her, hands on the edge of the table, leaning forward to get into Nicole's space.

"I'm not going to discuss that with you. You just don't understand it. Bobby on the other hand can. He knows the abysses of human nature. He's a worthy conversation partner."

"But he's not available, so you'll talk with us now." Eames was about to lose her cool. Right now she did not have the nerve to deal with the manipulator. She was close to just beating the truth out of her.

"I'd rather wait until he's back," Nicole told them, leaning back in her chair again.

Seeing her eye Eames with unmasked loathing, Barek decided to confront her.

"Are you disappointed that Randolph hasn't taken detective Eames?" she asked, getting out of her chair. She circled the table and leaned on the edge right beside Nicole. Getting into her personal space Barek asked, "Is that why you're not talking? Because you expected him to take and kill her?"

If Eames was caught off guard and offended by Barek's remark, she did not let anything show, but inside her stomach was rolling. She could not say that she was happy with Barek using her to bait the blonde, but she refrained from interfering because she knew that it was a fair chance and that she would do the same if the roles were reversed.

Even though Nicole tried to hide her astonishment she did not succeed.

"That's what you're saying," she finally answered.

"Oh, come on, Nicole," Eames caved. "We're in private! Admit to it, off the record!"

Just for a second Nicole thought about that.

"Yeah, I'm disappointed. I thought he'd get rid of you for me. You're not good for Bobby! You're reigning him in! You're _taming_ him!" Her voice grew louder with every sentence. "How's he supposed to use his whole potential if you keep his reins short? He's powerful! He needs his freedom!"

Eames almost smirked. They got her to get passionate about _something_. She bit it back, not wanting to let Nicole see her short-lived satisfaction. Thinking of her partner made her insides churn and her chest constrict around her heart, squeezing it painfully.

"I won't tell anything more unless Bobby's here," Nicole stated. "I'll talk to him or I won't talk at all."

"You don't have TV at prison, do you?" Barek asked.

At once Eames knew what was about to come and she abhorred it. Still she knew that that might be what would get Nicole to talk. So she did not object.

"Why?" Nicole wanted to know, confused. She clearly had no idea of what was about to come.

"If you'd have you might know about the latest victim of your dear cousin Randolph," Barek told her and slapped a photo on the tabletop in front of Nicole.

Staring at it Nicole became unusually quiet and… pale. Eames noticed that with surprise and satisfaction.

"That's a photomontage," Nicole rasped.

"No, it isn't," Barek snapped, conscious of the fact that Eames kept her hands off. "Randolph's torturing him and if he kills him you'll be in for assistance. And then you'll be a very old woman when you get released from prison. That is _if_ you'll ever be released."

Nicole grew very thoughtful.

Still staring at the picture showing Goren chained up with his arms behind and cowering on the concrete floor she was fighting with herself.

She felt no pity, just an overwhelming rage. He had used her and that was something she could not forgive. Still he was family and in a weird kind of way she respected Randolph.

Silently Nicole sat and the wheels in her brain were turning.

tbc…


	24. Chapter 23

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Special thanks to _rindy713_ and _deliriousdancer_. Your reviews rocked my world. Thanks once more to _bammy1_ for the great beta-work. Thanks also to _InfinityStar_ and _JO_. I really hope that I did not lose someone on this rocky road. I was surprised, even though I had a good amount of scenes prepared for ch23 I needed until tonight to do the polishing and make the connections to the other chapters. Anyway… Enjoy!

**23**

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

Eames studied Nicole's features attentively, wondering what was going on in her tangled mind. Would the picture break her resistance? Would it be enough to raise her compassion? Would her possessiveness make her betray her cousin?

Barek also watched the blonde. Her fingertips still rested on the edge of the picture she had shoved under Nicole's nose. She did not glance at Eames, she did not glance at the photo. All she was concentrating on was the woman who slightly shifted her position uncomfortably under the stare of the two detectives.

Finally Nicole reached for a pad and pen and scribbled something on the first free page.

"I can't guarantee that he'll show up there. You'll have to try your luck."

Barek took the address, a street in the Bronx.

"We'll see. You'll stay here in case that we have to talk to you again."

"Whatever, Detective." Nicole looked at Eames. "He told me he wouldn't be interested in him. He just wanted to match wits with Bobby."

_Is that supposed to be an apology? For not stopping him in time?_ Eames shuddered. Without giving Nicole an answer she followed Barek outside.

xXx

In the meantime Deakins sat with Logan and Taylor in his office.

"Okay, what's up, Taylor?" Deakins asked.

"Logan asked Danny Messer to make a DNA comparison of a sample he got during an interrogation," Mack Taylor told him. "He did and when he got the result he came to me. And I decided to talk to you in private."

"Why?" Deakins queried. "What's wrong with the sample?"

"Nothing's _wrong_. Just the result is… let's say, interesting."

"And I ask again: why?"

"Because… it turned out that the man whose blood sample Logan got is related to an NYPD member." Taylor paused, not sure how to say it. "He's a blood relative to Detective Robert Goren."

Deakins stared at the forensic scientist openmouthed. Logan had better control of his features, but only because he had suspected it since Brady became so possessive of a man he did not even know.

"A blood relative," Deakins said. "Who are we talking about? An uncle?"

"No, Sir. He's Detective Goren's father."

"His father? But Goren's father's dead."

"According to this DNA he isn't. Not yet."

"Who the heck are we tal-king… a-bout?" His voice trailed off, because he made the connection just as he was asking. "Logan? Don't tell me you got the sample from Brady!"

Logan looked at his captain sheepishly. Then he just shrugged.

Silence fell and lasted for almost a minute. Deakins could just stare at Taylor incredulously. Logan sat, rubbed his chin and wondered how they should break that news to Eames.

Finally Deakins found his voice again.

"I don't think that we should talk about that to anybody," he said. "Logan, how did you get the idea to ask Messer for a DNA comparison test?"

"Brady's reaction to Goren's abduction. Something just was wrong with it, and when he hurt himself and the blood got on the picture I… I seized the opportunity."

"We'll keep it under cover for now, clear?" Deakins told him.

"Sure," Logan agreed.

"Taylor? Who of your team knows about the result?"

"Only Danny and I, Sir."

"Okay, let's keep it that way. Thank you." Deakins turned to his ringing phone and picked it up, dismissing the forensic with a gesture. "Deakins." For a moment he listened attentively, scribbling down some information. When he slammed the receiver back down on the phone Logan raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Eames and Barek got Nicole to talk. They sent a patrol car and I got informed just now that there's suspicious movement on the premise. Let's go!"

With new energy both men jumped out of their chairs, striding out to grab Eames, Barek, Benson and Stabler and heading out to the address Nicole had given them.

xXx

It was a long ride to the Bronx. When they arrived they met two uniformed officers, who told them that nothing had happened so far. Tutuola and Munch pulled up in the usual dark _Crown Victoria_ and joined the others. There also were other teams of officers, guarding possible entries, but no movement there, either. The suspect was still supposed to be inside.

"Where's SWAT?" Eames asked.

"On their way," Deakins told them all. "They're held up by a bank robbery. The aviation unit should be here soon."

"We can't wait. If he's in there we have to get him," Stabler said.

"You're right," Deakins agreed. "But we still…"

"Go in," Eames cut him short. "C'mon, Cap! We have to get him alive if we want to find out where he's holding Bobby. If SWAT shoots him we won't get that chance."

"She's right," Barek mingled in. "It's our best chance!"

For just a moment Deakins hesitated. Looking around he met anxious features on eager cops' faces. They wanted just one thing: Get the bastard who had abducted and tortured one of their own.

Two things flashed through the captain's mind: His fear for Goren, that this was not only their best but probably their only chance to find him, and his responsibility for the cops standing in front of him. They should wait for SWAT, the entries were guarded, but there still was a slight chance that the killer might escape.

Deakins nodded.

Vests on and guns ready the detectives of MCS and SVU entered the premise, an abandoned and partly devastated factory that was scheduled for demolition. A big office building also belonged to the abandoned buildings. Long halls with many doors greeted the detectives there.

"We'll have to split up," Tutuola said.

"Then I'll go with you two?" Eames asked, looking at Benson and Stabler who nodded their consent.

Tutuola would go with Munch while Logan and Barek would be the last team of the detectives. The uniformed cops volunteered to check the offices. Each of them got his flashlight out before they headed in different directions.

They were on the factory floor when the ray of Eames' flashlight flickered over something suspicious.

"Over here!" she called.

In an instant Benson and Stabler were at her side. Three unsteady rays dipped the lifeless form of a young woman, draped over several tubes, into spotlight. Her legs were crossed, but just one arm rested on her body, the other stuck in the gap between two of the tubes.

"He could not finish arranging her body," Benson remarked. "We must have interrupted him." She lifted her radio to tell the other teams about their discovery.

"Oh, my God," Eames whispered when Benson was finished. "It's Allison Chalmers."

"Shit!" Benson muttered.

"I wouldn't have thought that she'd turn up so fast," Stabler said as he bowed over the body. "It wasn't so long ago that she was kidnapped and these marks on her wrists and ankles are fresh. I don't think that she's been dead for a long time."

"We've interrupted him! He's still close by," Eames threw in. "We should try to find him, and when we have him, we can make him tell us where he has Bobby."

"She's right," Stabler confirmed. "Let's go search for him."

So they continued to seek out the premises. Suddenly a figure passed in front of them and Eames pointed at it.

"Cut him off," Benson whispered to her partner. Together with Eames, she headed towards the spot where they had seen the suspect.

On his own now, Stabler turned to the left in the direction the man ran. His weapon drawn, holding it raised to shine with the flashlight at the same time, he darted down the hall. Reaching a gateway he left the hall and turned to the left again.

_There!_

Stabler followed the shadow down the alley between the shop floors.

_Where are the others?_

He picked the radio from his belt and called Benson. She gave her position and directed the others.

Then the shadow disappeared into the next building. Cautiously Stabler entered the building, moving through several open doors, gun drawn and ready. Just when he lifted the radio to contact Benson again, something hit his back hard, the impact making him stumble forward. Stabler dropped the radio and spun around to aim at his attacker with his gun… just to duck too late. The detective received a hard blow against his right arm that tossed his weapon out of his grip. Another punch in the chest threw him backwards and left him breathless.

Panting, Stabler could not get air into his lungs. Desperately he tried to breathe, feeling himself being grabbed by an arm and shoved away from the offices and into the production hall. They entered darkness.

From Stabler's arm the hand changed to the back of his neck. Hard nails buried deep into his flesh, hindering the detective from attempts of breaking out.

Walking fast, they covered quite a distance. Stabler did not know how far. Without any light he had no idea where they were going. As the dizziness lifted, he realized what was going on and his body tensed as he gathered a deep breath for his attack.

Split seconds too late.

Sensing his growing tension the attacker smashed him into a machine, stunning him.

Stars flashed in front of Stabler's eyes. For seconds he did not know where he was and what he was doing there. With the muzzle against his head and a strong push against his neck he was forced to the ground.

Stabler found himself lying prone. On his back, straddling him and pressing him down with the grip on his neck, was the attacker. It was impossible for him to land a hard blow backwards. Once more the muzzle was pressed against his head and an icy lump formed in his gut._ Will he shoot me?_

"Try and shout and you're dead," a low voice hissed into Stabler's ear.

In the distance rays of flashlights pierced the darkness. Before Stabler had any chance of noticing them a hand closed over his mouth, covering it to prevent him from screaming and alerting his colleagues.

Stabler tried to get rid of the man on his back. His body tensed in avoidance and he reared, doing his best to shake him off.

The pressure of the gun increased.

Not wanting to provoke the guy to pull the trigger on him, Stabler lay and waited for whatever might happen. Someone called his name and he thought he could feel the guy on his back tense. Then the steps and voices faded.

_No_, Stabler wanted to shout. _Don't go away! Come over here!_

But then they were gone.

"Don't move," the man whispered next to his ear. "Elliot…" he tasted the sound like wine. "I'm so glad that we meet again."

_Oh, crap! What does he mean with _that_?_ Stabler's fear amplified as he recognized the man's voice now. _It's really the fake Kirkpatrick, Randolph Cockrill, or whatever is his name__._

"I've been fascinated by you since I've seen your picture in the news when I was checking my public relation. I was surprised to see you with major case the next time… Well, now this is the best opportunity… And don't make any fucking sound."

_Fascinated? By me?_ Suddenly Stabler remembered the night at the bar and how the alleged private investigator had hit on him and he choked.

Strongly the killer held on to Stabler, almost suffocating the detective when he tried to squelch treacherous sounds, and making each breath through his partly blocked nose a fight. Another minute passed before the man lifted his hand from Stabler's mouth very slowly. The detective felt him fumble with his tie and finally remove it.

_What is he doing?_

Unfortunately Stabler's question was answered by the rolled up tie being jammed between his teeth. He cried out with surprise and fear, but the sound was already muffled.

_Crap! Gagged I have hardly any chance to draw attention to us!_

His attempt to grab for the tie to pull it out was thwarted as the man beat back his hand and took hold of his wrist. A moment later a knee pressed on his forearm. The hand with the gun shifted, its pressure making sure that he did not try to reach for the gag again. Then it came to rest between the shoulder blades, still the gun aiming at his head, locking position. Now the man was able to pin him down with this hand and to threaten with the weapon as well.

Next moment the guy lifted his weight just enough to push his other hand beneath his captive's body and Stabler's heart jumped into his throat. Bile rose, burning in his throat, as he felt how his belt was unbuckled and removed out of the loops. He choked on the gag, unable to keep his rising panic at bay. His eyes widened when the belt was pulled over his head and tightened around his neck.

"It was my intention to leave Allison and some clues for you to make the game more interesting, but now that we met again…" the man on Stabler's back murmured. "This time I should just follow my instincts."

_And what the heck do you mean with that?_

"Yeah, Elliot. You'll help me out of here and then… well, I'll find some room for you."

_What?!_ Stabler cried out inwardly. Air rushed through his nose as he tried to gasp, his jaws locked on the tie. _I hope you don't mean what I think you mean!_

"I regretted not having used the opportunity last time," the killer told him. "I won't make the same mistake twice."

_Oh, my God!_

Roughly the latches of Stabler's Kevlar vest were torn open and the protective garment ripped from his body, twisting his arms to get it off. When Stabler felt cold steel touch his left wrist he wriggled and thrashed around fervently, disregarding the gun that still aimed at his head. Once cuffed he would not stand a chance.

The man released the gun to grab Stabler's right wrist, too. Jerking both arms behind his back he closed the cuffs.

The ratcheting sound sent chills down Stabler's back. The detective wriggled desperately. Cuffed behind his back he was rendered quite helpless, being at the mercy of his attacker. So he could twist and turn as much as he wanted, he could not get him off. All he gained were two hits with the gun and…

_No_, it hammered in Stabler's head._ No, no, no…_

Both hands were on his body now. One brushed over his backside to return a moment later and to squeeze it hard. Stabler groaned. The weight on his back shifted, then left. Still wriggling Stabler managed to roll on his back and hit the man hard with a kick.

"Fuck!" the guy gave a suppressed yell.

_Not me!_ Stabler thought grimly. _Get the hell off of me!_

Grabbed by his arm the detective was pulled up to his feet again and dragged deeper into the darkness. He tried to plant his feet, but he was fighting him to no avail.

Pushing the gun in his side and pulling on the belt around his neck the killer hissed, "Don't fight! Come with me, Sweet Pea!"

His insides churning with fear and disgust Stabler stumbled along with him.

xXx

"Where the hell did he go?" Benson breathed.

They had lost track of the shadow in the dark. Eames was right beside her, when Benson tried to call Stabler via radio but he did not answer. It made her hairs stand on end. She did not want to draw the conclusion, but it was the only logical… Something had happened to him.

"Come on," Eames said and urged her to follow her.

Cautiously they checked the ground floor of the building to their left. Then they met Barek and Logan.

"Did you see anything?" Barek asked.

"No trace of him," Eames replied. "What about you?"

"Nothing." Logan sounded concerned. "Have you reached Stabler?"

"No," Benson said, equally worried. "That's not good. Damn! We shouldn't have split up."

"Munch, Fin, give your position," Logan called over the radio.

"We're in a construction hall," Fin answered. "No trace of our suspect."

"Damn," Benson swore. She did not want to imagine what might have happened to her partner.

xXx

Thumping in his chest, his heart made his blood rush. Stabler felt light-headed. He could not see where he was pushed to. A door. He hit it with his right shoulder. Then they were through. Stairs. They were not in the building anymore.

Stabler was dragged to the side, along the wall and towards the fence surrounding the premise.

_Shit! Where does he think he's going? Where's his car?_

In faint moonlight Stabler could see rows of containers, heaps of pipes and other supplies for the factory. The killer shoved him between two rows and toward the fence. Then they walked along the barrier.

Breathing hard through his nose was Stabler's sole way to get air. With the gag in his mouth and the belt around his neck he felt suffocated. His lungs were burning and he choked on the tie. Then he was stopped in his run by the hands holding his arms.

"C'mere," his captor hissed, pulling him back into deeper shadows.

Just before he was turned around and forced to go in the opposite direction Stabler caught a glimpse of three uniformed cops standing at the gate.

_Help me!_ Stabler cried out inwardly. He tried to kick at the fence, but his attempts were thwarted by the iron grip of the killer. Fingernails painfully dug in his arm. Held at short length the belt did not allow any space for him to resist. All he could do was stumble along in front of the guy.

Tiny lights flashed in front of Stabler's eyes. Lack of oxygen made him dizzy. So he just followed the directions across the court, always staying in the shadows of containers. They reached the administration building of the factory. Stabler was pushed through the entrance and shoved down the hall.

Suddenly his run was stopped. He was pulled backwards and pushed into a room. An arm snaked around his neck.

"Keep quiet or I'll break your neck," the fake Kirkpatrick whispered close to his ear.

Stabler could not confirm it in any way. His jaws were locked on the tie and he could not nod either. In the merciless grasp of his captor Stabler leaned against his body.

Then he heard footsteps. They were just on the other side of the door.

_More than one,_ he thought. _Heavy footfall, so it's a man. Fin? Logan?_

More steps. Faster than the others. They skidded to a halt. Shoes were scratching on the concrete. Then the voice of a woman. _Eames? Barek?_

"We searched the basement and the ground floor," she said. "They're clear. What about the exits? Did anybody see them?"

"No."

Stabler recognized Logan's voice.

"Any trace? He and Elliot didn't just vanish!" Benson meddled in.

_I'm here!_ Stabler wanted to scream but could not. His breath was rushing through his nose and the arm over his throat throttled him. _Quiet, _it seemed to say. _Keep quiet or die!_

"Fin, Munch… check the other two stories," Deakins ordered. "Take two uniforms with you. We'll keep searching outside."

Everyone hurried off to carry out his orders and the hallway grew silent as everyone left.

_Shit! Come back!_

But they did not come back. Instead he was released from the inexorable grip.

"The basement is clear?" fake Kirkpatrick snarled. "Then we'll go there, hm. C'mon!"

So Stabler was shoved into the hall and to the stairs. Stumbling down the flight of steps he almost lost his balance. Downstairs his captor shoved him down a long hall and then, before Stabler could do as much as flinch, he was pushed through a door and thrown down on a heap of cardboard.

Grunting he tried to get up again, but at once the man was over him. Despite the detective's wriggling he grabbed his middle to turn him on his back. Then he sat down on his hips. Bowing over him he pressed the gun against his head.

xXx

Logan shone his light through the shop hall and as it wandered over the ground searching the ray came to rest on the butt of a gun. Before Logan could walk over, Barek picked it up.

"Definitely a police weapon – Stabler's?"

They turned around, letting the light flick in every direction and it hit a radio. Logan squatted beside it.

"No trace of him," he murmured, shining further ahead. There was a door. Cautiously lifting light and gun both MCS detectives stalked to the door and inside.

At the same time Benson and Eames were in another factory hall. Between the remains of the machines they appeared like dwarfs.

"Logan?" Benson said in her radio when she got his call.

"We've found a gun. Might be Stabler's."

"Where are you?"

"In the office building. No signs of the other officers."

"We're on the third floor," one of the uniformed colleagues replied.

"Any sign of the suspect?" Tutuola wanted to know.

"Nothing so far," Logan said.

xXx

"Don't move," the man rasped, letting his hand run over Stabler's hair. Something was wrong with this gesture and the detective's eyes widened. The man laughed wickedly.

Stabler's heart pounded even wilder as the gloved hand continued to caress his hair and cheeks. _Damn! What__ the hell is he doing__?!_ Under their combined weight his wrists were painfully pressed into the metal rings of the cuffs which trapped his hands behind his back. Stabler tried to kick the man's back, but all he got in return was evil laughter.

Stabler heard something being put down on the ground beside them, but it could not be the gun. He still felt the muzzle press against his head. Then a small flashlight was switched on and positioned on something standing beside them, because it shone down on them.

Now fingers lightly touched Stabler's lips to grab the gag next. Carefully it was pulled out of his mouth. Instead the man laid one finger across the trembling lips to silence him.

"Scream and wriggle as much as you like," he whispered, "but if you try to kick or bite I will kill you."

"Get off of me," Stabler snapped. "You sick bastard, get off!"

"Ssshhh," made the man, his fingers dancing over Stabler's face then cupping his cheek. "No swearwords." Affectionately the voice continued, "You have the most beautiful eyes."

Kirkpatrick's face was merely an inch away from Stabler's. Yet, the detective could not make out details in the twilight. His mouth went dry, his breath caught in his lungs and he went rigid as the man bent even closer and kissed his forehead.

"Where is Goren?" Stabler growled.

That question elicited a low chuckle from his attacker.

"That's your problem? You want to know where your colleague is?" A vicious grin flashed over his features. "If I can find a way out of here, I'll take you to him."

Actually that was not what Stabler had in mind.

"But as we're cornered I have to seize the opportunity. It may be my last."

With that he kissed Stabler's forehead again and from there a trail over his cheekbone. Then the gloved fingers took his chin.

In vain Stabler tried to resist him. The tightening grip on his chin prevented him from turning his head. Each time he struggled to wriggle out of it the gun was painfully pushed into the hollow right below his jaw.

"Tell me," Stabler grunted to divert the killer's attention. "What did you do to him? Where is he? Is he still alive?"

Kirkpatrick snorted.

"I must be doing something wrong if you really have no other problem," he taunted. "Will you be more cooperative if I tell you?"

_Fuck off!_ Stabler thought, realizing in the same second that _fuck_ was the wrong choice of words in this situation and he was glad that he did not say it aloud.

"Answer me!" his attacker snarled right next to his ear.

"Get lost!" he spat.

"Why're you so rude, Sweet Pea? I just want to be nice to you."

_Nice?!_ Stabler was far from being comfortable with the way Kirkpatrick was being _nice_ to him. Though he was a good cop and empathetic listener to victims' statements he never had seen himself as potential victim of a sexual assault. So he found himself confronted unprepared with vicious circumstances beyond his control and though he would never admit to it, he was scared to death.

"I'm offended. For some unknown reason you won't talk to me anymore. Just like Bobby. But once I offered him the chance to really get to know me and talk about everything under the sun he became as talkative as an oyster."

_On second thought I'm rather enraged._ His muscles tensed, but trapped beneath his body his hands were not able to clench. Once more he tried to kick.

_Wham!_

The impact of the killer's fist threw his head against the gun, bruising his right cheekbone.

"I told you not to kick," Kirkpatrick snarled, taking Stabler's chin. Then he kissed the spot where the barrel had scraped the skin. "Bobby is okay," he murmured. "He's waiting for his special day. I wish you could be there, too, but maybe it'll end here and I don't intend to go out without a bang."

In vain Stabler tried to swallow his disgust. His throat tightened and he choked.

"You know what's coming, don't you?" his captor whispered. "I don't think that this Dawson guy knew, but you do, right?"

If Stabler knew his mind did its best to keep it to itself. Denial was the best way right now to cope with what was happening to him… or so he thought.

"Yeah, you know…" Kirkpatrick murmured, passion carrying in his voice. "I can see it in your eyes. What did you think when you saw Dawson? Did you see yourself in his place? Or is this nothing you would ever think about?" He chuckled lowly. "What a pity that I had to kill him first. I would have enjoyed him screaming."

The prospect of ending up like Jack Dawson had ended in the dark alley, with broken neck and sodomized, made Stabler gasp, giving the perv the opportunity he certainly had waited for. Without any hesitation he pressed his mouth on Stabler's now parted lips. At the same time he intensified the threatening pressure of the gun.

Terrified Stabler had to let it happen. The perp's mouth moved on his own in a wild, demanding kiss. _No!_ His stomach turned, as the man forced his tongue into his mouth. He dry retched. It did not keep the guy from letting his tongue explore his oral cavity. This kiss seemed endless.

Stabler would have wriggled, but his body seemed to be frozen with shock.

When the man retreated and sat up Stabler coughed and panted. He choked. Sick to his stomach was a nice paraphrase of how he felt. It did not do justice to the horror that filled him. Now he had an idea of what lay ahead.

"You taste good," the man murmured tenderly. When he bowed down again, Stabler spit at him.

A straight right threw Stabler's head to the side. He tasted blood. A hand, now without glove, closed around his chin like a vice and forced him to face his assailant.

"This is your last warning. Try something like that again and you're gonna die." To make absolutely clear what he meant he kissed him a second time.

Stabler's head was still spinning from the blow, so he did not fight. He tried to get support for his feet. His wrists and arms hurt as did his back, and his heart ached. As he felt the strong, hot tongue of the strange man move inside of his mouth again his stomach turned with disgust.

When the man left off kissing Stabler, he got up and, for a moment, just looked down at the detective, who was shivering with suppressed rage.

"You're going to make me happy," he purred, opening the first two buttons and shoving his hand under Stabler's shirt. "Really happy. We're going to have some fun."

_Fun!_ Stabler's heart skipped a beat with shock as he realized what the killer meant with _fun_. _God! No! Don't do that!_

Kirkpatrick bent down to open button and zipper of his captive's pants. Stabler thrashed around fervently, tried to get out of the man's reach. He was left no choice. There was nothing he could do to prevent himself from being stripped of his pants. That they were brutally pulled down was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Liv!" he screamed out. "John!

Further attempts to kick were thwarted by the man kneeling on the pants which still were around his lower legs.

"Let's see if each part of you tastes equally good," the man snickered.

Stabler gasped for breath. He strained against the cuffs, but his hands were as trapped as his legs were by his pants. His muscles tensed but he could do nothing to help himself. All he could do was to endure it… silently… or not so silently.

He chose to scream his rage out in the darkness.

xXx

"Where the heck are they?"

Logan panted. They had searched the whole shop hall as fast as they could, but did not find anything. Now they were in the yard, meeting Tutuola, Munch and the cops. Benson and Eames also joined them.

"I don't get it! Each exit is guarded, so I don't think that our guy left the premises."

"And what happened to Elliot?" Benson asked. "You found his radio. His gun! But he vanished! So what happened? Did he get killed? Has the killer taken him hostage? Where are they?"

Good questions. Everyone was thinking about them.

"We checked all the halls, the office building, the court…" Eames said. "They were nowhere to be seen."

"Then let's check the place one more time," Barek suggested.

"Everything?" Logan complained halfheartedly. He knew that they had to do it but could not keep his mouth shut.

"Yes, partner, everything."

xXx

Stabler had stopped screaming. Tense with avoidance, his stomach sick with disgust, he lay on the cardboard the man had thrown him down on. His natural body's reactions made him feel guilty, like a sinner, even though he knew that he could not help it.

That he could not defend himself drove tears of rage to his eyes. His wrists hurt badly so he had stopped struggling. He suffered silently now. The whole premise seemed to be deserted. He could hear nothing other than the rustling of the guy's clothes and his sounds of his pleasure…

If there would be something he could do… _Damn! There has to be_… and then it struck him. There was one thing.

He tried, tried hard, but it did not work. _Damnit! A fountain, a river, a waterfall… I just need the sound!_

That made it work and with grim satisfaction he enjoyed the scream of his attacker.

Until the killer's boot connected brutally with his ribs, making _him_ scream.

"Fuck!" the man roared, spitting remains of urine at him. "You'll regret that you son of a bitch."

"And I… thought… you'd enjoy it," Stabler gasped. "Aaaaahhh!"

The boot drove between his legs, leaving him agonized and dizzy. Another kick in his side drove the air from his lungs.

He did not realize that the man had stopped until hot breath hit his face again and the next second his mouth was covered.

_No! Not again! Stop it!_

When the man finally backed off he laughed viciously.

"That will cost you," he grumbled, searching for the tie. "I knew you would be great! I knew it when I saw you in the newspaper and in the photo taken at the crime scene. And later I found out that you can also fight… as you did now."

He rolled the tie again and stuffed it back into Stabler's mouth.

Silenced like that he could not even express his pain and anger. His heart started to beat frantically. _Why?_ he inwardly whined. _Just why? I'm nothing special!_ He could not find an answer, just as he could find none for most of the crimes they were investigating. _Stop it now. Stop it!_

"What do you think? How long will they take to find you?" His wicked laughter sparkled from his lips. He lowered his head again. "Too long," he whispered. "Now you'll have to pay." Then he got up.

That proved to be no reason to feel relief, because one moment later the man grabbed Stabler's ankles to turn him onto his stomach.

_Noooo!_ was all Stabler could think of.

Heavy was the weight on his back. Warm breath flooded against the back of his neck as the man leaned forward to grab the belt. When it was pulled tight, Stabler gasped for breath. The man held the leather strap together with the cuffs binding his hands. At the same time he pressed the detective down.

Stabler's heart jumped into his throat as he felt a naked hand on his exposed buttocks. A sting of pain made him tremble uncontrollably.

"Your ass is incredible. I'm not the only one who thinks this way, am I? I saw it in the hotel room when you squatted next to Bobby's veggie seller. And I noticed Detective Alex checking you out, too. I guess everyone can't help but see that delicious piece of ass." He snickered. "And you know what's going to happen now, don't you?"

Pressure from inside had him shivering. With each millimeter that the finger penetrated his anus Stabler felt even more sick with disgust.

"I'll take it," Kirkpatrick rasped, pushing with his hand for emphasis. "Your ass is _mine_ now, Elliot."

xXx

Passing a door on her way to once more search the administration building Carolyn Barek thought she would hear someone yell. It was a faint, distant sound and she was not really sure if her ears did not play a trick on her.

"Mike!"

Logan stopped short and turned to his partner. Once again Barek checked the door, this time passing through and peeking down the stairs behind.

"What is it?" Logan asked.

"I thought I heard a scream." She listened intensely, the light of her lamp dancing through the staircase, and then she began to descend the flight of stairs.

"Barek! Where are you…" Logan had no chance but to follow her. "We already checked the whole cellar!"

"Then we'll check it again. I'm not ready to risk Stabler's life just because we've already been down there."

In the basement they entered a long hall, also with many doors leading into storage rooms. To their right they heard thumps.

"Someone's over there," Barek whispered.

xXx

"C'mon, Sweet Pea. Don't struggle."

Stabler wished he could do more than just struggle. Actually it was not much he could do. His desperate wriggles did not help him in any way. They just made Kirkpatrick mad.

Gagged as he was Stabler felt almost suffocated and the belt around his neck added to that. Bound with his own handcuffs his arms were effectively immobilized. His captor held belt and cuffs with the same hand and pressed him down on the cardboard.

"I'm such a lucky guy to get this chance. I wish I'd meet the blond CSI, too, but I don't think that I'll get that opportunity."

_Nah, I hope we'll get you here and now,_ Stabler thought. The pain in his backside was bearable, but the knowledge where it stemmed from tore him apart. In vain he tried to escape the pressure only to make it worse.

"Yeah, that's great, Elliot" Kirkpatrick moaned. "Now we'll have fun."

The hand vanished but Stabler knew that that was rather a bad sign. He heard how a belt was unbuckled and tried to twist away from his captor. It did not work. The killer knelt on his pants which still were around his lower legs, so all his wriggling did not do any good.

"You know, Elliot," Kirkpatrick snickered, "if you stop thrashing it won't hurt so much."

_Sick bastard!_

"C'mon, Sweet Pea. It's time."

Now Stabler felt both hands on his hips. They held him down and brought him into position.

"Oh, I love this ass," Kirkpatrick sighed and breathed a kiss on the left butt cheek.

Taking as deep a breath as he could through his nose Stabler tried to prepare for the final assault though he doubted that anything could prepare him for what lay ahead. His heart skipped a beat as he waited for the pain.

It never came. Suddenly the hands and the pressure on his legs vanished and Stabler tried to turn on his back. In the twilight of the perv's flashlight he saw him pull his pants closed and button them up.

_What the…?_ Stabler would not complain about being spared this experience, but still he was confused by the sudden change of mind. Then his own pants got grabbed and the killer pulled on them to get them back up.

xXx

Logan lifted his radio and gave their position. Then they both went down the hall. There was a glimmer in one of the rooms. Someone groaned. More thumps as if from kicking feet. A scraping sound from cardboard.

Then a dull thud. Rustle of clothes, steps. Fast steps. A figure appeared in the ray of Logan's flashlight.

"NYPD!" he yelled. "Freeze!"

The man turned around and Logan grabbed his gun tighter. In the next second he was glad that he did not pull the trigger. The muzzle of his gun pointed directly between the terror-widened eyes of Elliot Stabler. There was something around his neck, he was gagged, and his arms seemed to be tied up.

Barek also aimed with her gun. From her angle she could see even better than her partner that the suspect pressed a weapon to Stabler's head.

"Let him go!" she barked. "You won't walk out of here anyway!"

"I will or he's dead," Kirkpatrick hissed. "And if you kill me… you're killing Bobby right with me."

The vicious smirk on the killer's face made the detectives' hair stand on end. He was right and they knew it. What Barek saw in Elliot's eyes testified to more than just stress at being held hostage. He was terrified and she wondered what the man had done to him.

"Put your guns down," the killer snarled. "Now."

Neither Logan nor Barek followed the order. They knew that it was only a matter of time until their colleagues would swarm the building. Then the killer was trapped in here.

But he had Stabler.

The SVU detective was a living shield between the serial killer and the cops. He knew what was at stake and that they had to subdue the perp alive if they wanted to have even a small chance of finding Goren.

With his eyes Stabler tried to tell them to go ahead and get the guy, but they did not understand him. He wished for his partner to come, because Benson certainly would know what he expected her to do, even though his life was at stake. Unable to resist Stabler was pulled backwards by his captor, closing in on the second staircase.

With his arms bound, held by the belt around his neck and forced by the threatening gun, Stabler stumbled along with his captor. All the way up to ground level Barek and Logan were only a few steps below them, still aiming with their guns.

Backwards Kirkpatrick pulled the detective through the door into the hall and right in front of the barrels of Benson and Eames.

"Back!" the killer yelled. "The guns down."

Stabler felt the muzzle bore under his jaw which left him little scope to resist. Aside from that the perp could pull the trigger at any second. Even though he wanted to take Stabler with him he still wanted to escape. He had no use for ballast.

"I told you to put the guns away!"

Intently Stabler stared at his partner. Slowly she let her hand with the weapon sink. Reluctantly Eames followed her example. Through the door followed Logan and Barek. They also gave up aiming at them. Still the detectives held their guns, but they pointed straight to the floor.

"Whoa!" Kirkpatrick suddenly howled. His grip loosened and Stabler threw himself to the ground. He rolled over his shoulder and hit another doorframe. A shot was fired, then another and for a few seconds nobody knew what happened.

"Freeze!" Logan yelled, then he started to run because his target had vanished through the back exit. Eames and Benson were right on his heels. They sprinted across the yard toward the gate but then noticed that the man had turned to the left and sped toward another building.

"We're following him into factory hall B," Eames told the colleagues over the radio. Then another shot thundered.

xXx

Barek shone her flashlight in the direction Stabler went down to and it flicked over the detective's body. Barek gasped. "Elliot?"

Helping her colleague was her priority now. Heavy footfall made her look around, ready to defend him if necessary.

"Where's your partner?" Tutuola asked, slowing his steps as he approached her, Munch in his tow. Barek pointed down the hall and the other two detectives followed Logan. Relieved to know that her partner had all the backup he could possibly get, she turned to Stabler.

"Elliot!" She rushed to his side and knelt down, putting her gun in its holster. "Elliot. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he grumbled through the gag. Carefully Barek pulled the tie out of his mouth. "Thanks, Barek," he said. "You don't have to yell. I can hear fine."

Barek let the light roam over his head and found the bruises caused by the blows he had received. Stabler groaned as he looked in the flashlight because it hurt his eyes. His breaths came as ragged gasps. Lightly Barek laid her hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. Her radio crackled, and he jumped.

"Easy, Elliot." She got it up and answered the call, giving her position. Then she asked for a bus. "Sh… stay right there. The medics are on their way."

She put radio and flashlight down. "Sh… I'm looking for the keys. Just a moment."

Stabler heard her soothing voice and appreciated it. He did not know if he might react differently to his male colleagues, but somehow he was glad that he was alone with Barek right now.

Realization of how close a call it had been for him hit Stabler and he started to shiver. Hard tremors ran through his body. Of course Barek noticed it and tried to take him in a soothing embrace, but as soon as she touched his shoulders he began to struggle. He just knew that he did not wanted to be touched again in any way. He wanted nothing other than to escape. So he squirmed to get away from her touch and screamed with rage when she got hold of his arm.

Barek's blood froze in her veins when she heard that roar. She let go of Stabler, who lay now on his side, trying to kick her.

"He's gone, Elliot" Barek said. "It's me, Carolyn. Calm down." She tried to press him to the ground to be able to reach the cuffs. Stabler screamed even louder when he felt pinned again and started to wriggle desperately. "Calm down, Elliot. Elliot! Hey, look at me."

Astonished Barek looked up over her shoulder when suddenly captain Deakins joined them.

"Elliot! Carolyn's right. He's gone now. Calm down. Easy…"

He knew this voice. Hearing the captain's reassuring words Stabler tried to gather what was left of his strength and his muscles visibly relaxed. Still, he was breathing hard.

_He's terrified_, Barek thought and got her own keys out to finally free him from the cuffs.

"Elliot." Very carefully Barek placed her hands on his shoulders, steadying and comforting him. Even though he still sat on the ground he was swaying. "It's okay. Come to me, honey."

Gently pulling him to her chest she wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back in circles. He was shivering. Softly crooning she continued to caress him.

Stabler sighed. He wanted to relax against her but he felt so weak. When he thought of the reason why, the terrifying memories came back with a vengeance. Suddenly he felt the belt that still hung from his neck. Struggling out of Barek's hold he grasped it to get rid of it. The sudden movement sent a sharp sting flashing through his brain from the back of his neck. Howling he slumped over in Barek's embrace, grabbing his neck instinctively.

"Medics are on their way," Deakins said.

Coughs shook Stabler's body. He tried to get up, but that proved to be too much for him. Barek could not support him and he went down on his fours, his colleague kneeling beside him. The coughs changed to chokes and he threw up.

As he crouched there, heaving, sobbing, Stabler had to laugh inwardly.

_So much about so called bravery_, he thought_. In the end it is nothing but crap_.

All the talk about how men were supposed to remain silent and controlled in situations as frightening as hell… It came all from the same source that made girls and women believe that they all had to look like Pam Anderson or Angelina Jolie.

Hearing footsteps Barek and Deakins drew their weapons, just to aim at their colleagues.

"He got away again!" Eames uttered as she stepped up to her captain, her voice hoarse with rage and grief. "He climbed over the fence and at a gas station on the next block he stole a bike. Logan and Tutuola stopped a car and followed him…"

"Damn," Stabler swore between coughs. "How could you let him get away?"

"We didn't do it on purpose," Eames snapped. "And it's not as if you've been a big help!"

"Stop it!" Deakins bellowed, nipping any fight in the bud. "It won't help Goren at all if we're at each other's throats!"

"He's right, Alex. Leave him alone. He's injured."

_Leave me alone. Yeah, good idea,_ Stabler shared her opinion. _Or maybe not so good._ Still shaking he tried to get up, much to the displeasure of Barek. It was the just arriving Munch who came to aid him in standing up, waving off Barek's arguments. He threw her a warning glance and cautiously led Stabler out of the hall and over the courtyard.

When paramedics hurried towards them, Munch stopped.

"Okay, Elliot," he murmured. "It's time. You walked out of there on your own, now let them take care of you."

Reluctantly Stabler gave in to Munch's gentle pushes. Denial of the vertigo that tried to get a hold of him did not make it vanish. Renewed panic swept over him as gentle caring hands pressed him down on the gurney.

Coming from the gate Benson rushed to her partner's side as soon as she spotted him with the paramedics.

"Elliot! What happened? Are you okay?"

"More or less," he grumbled.

Munch already had noticed it, Benson needed a little longer. Having worked special victims for as long as they had they knew the signs. Deakins and Barek also had their suspicions of what might have happened while they were searching for him. They all were long enough with the NYPD to recognize the victim of an assault when they saw it.

And Stabler realized that his _secret_ was not a secret anymore.

"He couldn't go through with it," he mumbled, blushing with shame. "Thanks to Barek. She and Logan interrupted him."

"We'll talk later," Deakins said. "Now you need medical attention."

"I'll be okay, Captain. It's more that we need to take physical evidence. There's spit on me. H-he kissed me."

The way he said that made Benson's insides constrict. She knew her partner well enough to realize that that was not the whole truth.

"French kiss," Stabler admitted, stunning his colleagues. "With his gun against my head I didn't feel like denying him his desire."

"What else did he do?" Eames blurted out.

Grimacing Stabler gathered his thoughts. "Hit me, kicked me… when he had me in the cellar he kissed me and tried to get more." Chuckling cynically he added, "But I peed."

That elicited restrained laughter from the detectives.

"We need to find them. That he could not get what he wanted from me enraged him," Stabler said, urgently. "I can only guess that he'll take it out on Goren."

This remark sobered them up again.

"Can I go with him?" Benson asked the paramedics as much as Deakins.

The captain nodded. "Sure, keep me in the loop."

"Of course, Sir," Benson agreed and left the group walking on the side of the gurney as it was rolled to the waiting ambulance.

"Every single cop's looking out for that damned bike. Why can't we have some luck for a change?" Eames grumbled.

"Because luck's the one thing that isn't guaranteed to us by the Constitution," Munch dryly said, making the others roll their eyes at him.

"If luck doesn't work we have to resort to good old-fashioned police work," Barek told them. "Maybe we should have another talk with Miss Wallace."

tbc…


	25. Chapter 24

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: No excuses, my stupid muse found something new to work on and refused to concentrate on this one here. Thanks for the reviews. (hugs) For _Blu,_ _Bammi,_ and _Deliriousdancer._ :)

**24**

**unknown location**

Mercilessly time was passing. Goren knew that, but he had no way to measure it except his breaths or heartbeats.

Both had slowed down again. Finally he realized that nothing he could have done would have saved Allison. Maybe he should have bitten the killer's pride clean off. He probably would have bled to death.

And chained up as he and Allison were they might have starved right beside him.

Goren knew from experience that the killer did not necessarily carry the keys for the chains in his pockets. So even though he would have been able to knock him out, it was no guarantee that they would get free.

However bad the death of Allison had been, and it would probably haunt him forever, right now it rather encouraged him.

In the wake of Allison's murder he realized that he was giving Kirkpatrick such a hard time that he had to resort to extortion to make him obey. That fuelled his resistance.

_But if I resist him… what might come next? He just might kidnap the next woman to torture her in order to subdue me. That's nothing I can risk._

Goren sighed.

_I think I understand his scheme: I have to suffer to survive. If I'm too obedient I'll bore him and just like that I'm dead and he moves on to another victim. Eames? What a horrible thought. I can't fight too much either. First, it will wear me out and second, I might make him made enough to kill me. I can turn it any way I want, he will kill me anyway._

_In the meantime I have to judge very carefully just how much resistance I can offer to keep him interested… and myself alive._

_Unfortunately, finding that medium between resistance and compliance will lead me to more misery. It will maximize my suffering as much as it will prolong my life._

Altogether these were not the happiest prospects.

So he sat in his way too small prison, trying to keep his thoughts from exploring the darkest scenarios he could come up with.

In, out, in, out, in, out…

The rhythm of his breathing lulled him in a lightest of sleeps until flashing lights startled him awake again.

In the sudden brightness Goren's eyes needed a moment to adjust. As soon as he could clearly see Kirkpatrick he knew that something was definitely wrong. His features, his movement, his demeanor, they all testified to his anger. And it seemed to be more than that, he was enraged.

Goren was not interested in Kirkpatrick's problems themselves but he was under the impression that the man would possibly need an outlet… an outlet that would most likely be himself.

When Kirkpatrick turned to face him he saw the other man's eyes and knew that he was not so wrong with his assumption.

Kirkpatrick came to open the cage. He seized the chains and pulled the detective unceremoniously out of his cell.

Goren struggled to get to his feet. He hurt all over his body from the cramped position he had been forced to assume. Now he was dragged to the middle of the room, where the chain was waiting. Kirkpatrick attached it to his manacles without bothering to open the neck cuff. The chain ran over the wheel and pulled tight, preventing him effectively from stumbling.

"Do you jog?" Goren asked. "Or do you ride a bike? Swim?"

"Oh, suddenly you're interested in me? May I ask you why, Bobby?"

"A workout would be great against stress."

Kirkpatrick laughed out loud. "You're just asking because you already know that _you_… are going to be this workout." He opened his belt and took it out of the loops.

Out of the corner of his eyes Goren watched him taking position diagonally behind him. His breath accelerated. He knew what was coming and everything inside him wanted to deny that knowledge. A split second later the belt clapped on his back and made him cry out.

Kirkpatrick enjoyed the cry echoing from the walls. He watched Goren closely before he swung for the next blow.

With each blow Goren reared but the tight bondage hardly allowed movement so that he merely flinched. The intervals between the strokes became shorter and soon they followed in quick succession. Goren cried helplessly, tears rolling down his face. Flashbacks of his father beating him mingled with the present, the belt slapping on his back creating a weird connection to his past.

He almost did not notice that the belting stopped. Kirkpatrick appeared right in front of him. He cupped one cheek with his right hand and caressed it. Then he leaned in to the other cheek to lick up some of the tears, tasting the salt in them.

Goren choked when he felt Kirkpatrick's sperm moisten his legs.

"You think that's bad?" Kirkpatrick asked at the sight of clearly visible pain. He released the chain, only to push Goren backwards to lie on the ground where he locked the irons at very short length to a ring.

The detective froze just for an instant before he started kicking. Pain shot from his injured foot through his whole body when it collided with his attacker. Kirkpatrick managed to kneel down over him, grabbed his legs and pinned them to the ground with his weight.

_No! No, no, no_… it hammered into Goren's head. _Don't do this! NO!_

Kirkpatrick was totally unimpressed and determined as he bowed over Goren's lap and took what he desired.

Seconds seemed to freeze to eternity, before Kirkpatrick stood up.

Goren closed his legs and pulled them up to somehow protect himself. Even this proved to be a mistake. Quickly Kirkpatrick bowed and wrapped the belt around Goren's thighs, just above the knees. Kicking impossible. Then Kirkpatrick forced his captive to turn to the side and knelt behind him.

Strangled sobs escaped Goren's throat and he was trembling violently but could not help it. He was even more aware of the shackles and chains now than all the time before. To cope with the feeling of dread he desperately tried to hold on to the image he had in mind. Each time he was distracted by Kirkpatrick's actions on him, the image flickered to be replaced by concrete and iron. He concentrated harder and finally managed to manifest an illusion.

Kirkpatrick noticed his distraction. His grip tightened and his fingers dug into the buttocks. As slowly as he could he approached in search of an entrance and felt his aim harden. He smiled.

Goren knew Kirkpatrick was close. And there was nothing he could do. Suddenly the picture of Alex shattered to millions of pieces due to an inexpressible pain and he screamed out in terror.

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

It was very early morning and the detectives were back from the Bronx at the headquarters. Deakins would have loved to send them all to the crib, but something kept them going even though they were working, with short interruptions, for days now. They just took their places in the task room when the last member of the group entered the bullpen. Deakins stood and left the room to intercept him.

"In my office," he said and the detective followed him. There they both sat on opposite sides of the desk. Deakins rubbed his right temple. He was getting a headache.

"Stabler, I'm going to pull you from the case," Deakins declared.

"With all due respect, Sir, I don't think that that's necessary."

"Well, Detective, given the fact that you were assaulted by the suspect…"

"I have a session with Dr. Skoda scheduled this afternoon. I'll deal with what happened. Don't take me off the case now."

Stabler got up from his chair, starting to pace to the window and back. A flaming restlessness kept him going even though he clearly felt his tiredness. Of course Deakins noticed the detective's agitation and drew his own conclusion.

"I don't think that that's going to be enough," he said. "Look at you. What this perv did to you will influence everything that you'll do from now on…"

"And?" Stabler interrupted him, accompanying the bark with a dark glare.

"And we shouldn't risk the case just because of your…"

"My what?" Stabler spat. "Forgive my rudeness, sir, but I know what I'm doing. I won't risk the case! I can smell his track now and we need to keep going or we'll lose it again."

"Yes, we identified our suspect and with the evidence secured after your attack we'll nail the bastard, but how are we closer to finding him than before?"

"I don't know!" Stabler panted with frustration. "But I'll know it if I see it. C'mon, sir. Give me a chance!"

Actually Stabler knew that not even Don Cragen, his SVU captain who was like a father figure and mentor for him, would be likely to grant him his will, but he had to at least try. Anxiously he waited for captain Deakins' decision, butterflies in his stomach and horrid memories on his mind.

"_Okay, now I need to examine the genital area," ME Sheldon Hawkes said once he had taken oral swabs._

If you have to_, Stabler thought and felt his insides constrict with anxiety as he lay back down on the examination table._

"_What did you say he did?" Hawkes asked._

"_He went down on me," Stabler admitted and sensed renewed nervousness surge through his body. Gentle hands urged him to open his legs and he complied. He had asked for Hawkes, who was with Taylor's CSU team, to do the examination because he could not imagine Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers or the ME his own squad usually worked with, Dr. Melinda Warner, to take the evidence in his case. Even though he felt incredibly ashamed and humiliated by having Hawkes look at him he was even more uncomfortable with the thought of having one of the women do it._

"_These bruises are not from the actual assault, right?" Hawkes just asked as he looked at the coloring skin._

"_He kicked me," Stabler rasped._

"_I see." Hawkes was as gentle as he could be, knowing that the detective already had to be in bad pain. He did not want to make it worse. The injuries were not grave, but the man would certainly be sore for days. "Now the rectal exam," he told him matter of factly, sure that that approach would be the best way to deal with the proud detective._

"_He had no chance to rape me," Stabler protested as he already had done when he was first examined from the hospital's doctor. "He was interrupted before he could…"_

"_Then this part will be over with quickly__," __Hawkes interrupted him and waited for Stabler to turn over._

"You kept Eames on the case…" Stabler dared to say when Deakins sat in thoughtful silence, knowing that he was taking a risk by pointing that fact out.

"You're right," Deakins replied. "And I keep an eye on everyone. That's why I'm the captain." Leaning forward on the tabletop he eyed Stabler intently. "She was not the one who was attacked."

"Her partner got abducted."

"Right."

"You think I can't deal with what happened?" Stabler grumbled, sensing that he was short of losing the case.

"I don't know you well enough to judge that," Deakins said. His gaze drifted past Stabler to the door to his office and gestured the man who approached it in. "That's why I called your captain."

_Great!_ Stabler did his best not to grunt with frustration and rolled his eyes when he spotted someone else follow Cragen. Kathy Stabler came in right behind his captain, stepped up to him and hugged him only briefly because she sensed that he tensed up when she displayed that closeness.

"You didn't need to come," Stabler said. "I thought we made that clear on the phone."

"Well, you did," she replied. "I didn't want to argue so I just grabbed some stuff and took the car."

Slowly a smile cracked his features. "I'm glad you're here," he admitted and she returned the smile.

Cragen looked first at the couple and then at Deakins as he sat down in one of the visitor's chairs. Then he turned to his former squadmate.

"What's up, Jim? You said it was urgent. Is it about Goren?"

"No, it's about Detective Stabler," Deakins replied. "It's been too long, Don. Why do we have to meet under these circumstances again?"

"I was attacked," Stabler threw in. "Captain Deakins wonders if I can further lead the investigation."

"Are you alright, Elliot?" the SVU captain asked his detective.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "Can I go back to work now?"

Suddenly Cragen became suspicious. "What happened?"

"The perv attacked me," Stabler told him. Embarrassed he looked at Kathy. "Assaulted me, sexually, or he tried to, anyway."

"Good Lord!" Kathy was stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"On the phone?" he asked back incredulously. "There was nothing to tell you. He couldn't finish the act. I'm okay."

One look into his eyes and Kathy knew that there was more he was not saying. Probably he could fool the captains, but he could not fool her. But with the same look she also read his determination. He was ready to finish this fight and it was not her choice to stop him. So she remained silent.

Cragen also noticed the firm gaze, the set to the jaws and the straightening posture. His detective was royally pissed off. If he was not supposed to be the stern superior he would have grinned. He exchanged looks with Deakins. The major case captain shrugged and nodded.

"So what are we doing next?" Cragen asked.

"We were about to debrief," Stabler replied before Deakins could say anything. "Let's go."

Together with his wife, Stabler was the first who left the office but Kathy led him toward the exit.

"Be careful," she said. "I know you. You're angry now and there's nothing I could do to stop you. I just ask you to be careful, very careful."

"I will be," he promised and hugged her.

Strongly she embraced him, too, then smacked a kiss on his cheek. When she looked up at him he read in her eyes that he could not fool her.

"Yeah," she whispered, "I know that it was worse than you made it sound. You'll tell me when you're ready… I hope you find him."

"I plan to do that," he replied with a crooked grin, proud of but also a little scared of her ability to read him. "We're a good team."

Warmly Kathy smiled at him. "I know you'll find him." Then her smile changed to a smirk. "But you should do everyone a favor." She saw him frown. "Yeah, change into other clothes."

"Thanks," Stabler whispered, took the bag she had been holding all the time, hugged her quickly and turned to follow the captains to the task room.

"Okay, what do we have?" Deakins asked when they were all present.

"Allison Chalmers' throat was slit. She died last evening between the hours eight and nine, so approximately two hours elapsed before he dumped her in the Bronx." Logan rubbed his chin as he read from the autopsy report. "Rodgers found fluids, Allison was raped, orally and vaginally. Blood type is no match with our suspect…" his voice trailed off.

"It isn't?" Barek wondered. "That's odd."

"What is it?" Eames pushed, seeing Logan's scowl. "Spit it out!"

"Blood type is a match with Goren's," Logan said.

"What?!"

Eames was not the only one who was shocked. What did that mean? How had their colleague's fluids gotten on Allison Chalmers? Inside of her!?

"If he did it, he was forced," Logan exclaimed. "There's no way that… God!"

"You think he would do that?" Eames exploded. "He would never… take a woman against her will! Never! How can you say he would?"

"Did you hear what I said? He was forced," Logan defended himself.

"There's no way he would do something…"

"All he needed to do was threaten to kill her if he didn't comply," Stabler threw in. "He would do anything to save her life, wouldn't he?"

Eames' mouth opened but nothing came out. Once more she tried with the same result. Then she sat back in her chair.

"Okay, we agree that Goren was forced to have intercourse with Allison Chalmers," Benson said. "Why would their captor do that?"

"Humiliation," Barek piped up, barely looking up from the file she read. "Forcing Goren to do what he would expect the killer to do, making him the same, would be the ultimate degradation. Unless…"

"Unless he wants to take him, too," Stabler completed her sentence. "Like he tried with me."

Silence fell.

The tension between the cops was so dense that you could cut it with a knife.

"What did we get from CSU so far? Anything about the scene? The van? The evidence taken from the hospital?"

Once Stabler had broken the silence it turned uncomfortable.

"What? Cat got your tongues? Call it by its name, he tried to rape me. I refuse to allow him the chance to do the same to Goren! We're running out of time. So what did we get from CSU?"

His anger embarrassed the others. For a second they had forgotten their priority, finding Goren, and he had caught them red-handed. Knowing that their colleague still was in the sadist's clutches tortured them, too. They knew the chances that he had not already been violated were slim. Still they refused to let go of the hope that they still could save him. They had to save him.

"They found prints in the van belonging to Randolph Cockrill as well as a partial from Nicole Wallace. His prints also were on the belt."

"That belt," Barek interrupted her partner, "I think it has some significance for him. He used a belt before. It seems to be one of his preferred weapons."

"So how does that help us?" Eames asked wearily. "He likes to use belts because what, that he was beaten with one as a kid? Because he's a leather fetishist?"

"Why don't you try and see if Miss Wallace can answer you these questions?" captain Deakins suggested.

"Yeah, there are other things I'd like to ask her, too," Eames said. "Caro? Let's give it another shot."

Barek nodded and both detectives stood to go and interrogate the Australian once more.

xXx

"So, Miss Wallace," Eames said. "Now you can explain to us why you knew the exact place where your dear cousin Randolph planned to dump his next victim."

"I never knew," Nicole told her. "I once followed him to the old factory. I thought he'd have a hideaway there."

"Well, he didn't," Eames said dryly. "He slit the woman's throat and dumped her there."

"I didn't know. I couldn't know. You can't blame me for the crimes of my cousin." Nicole crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. Her chin was raised defiantly.

"We can charge you for aiding and abetting if you knew his plans and didn't prevent his acts," Barek said.

"Prove it!" Nicole spat.

"Your prints are in his van." Eames slapped the corresponding report page on the tabletop.

"And?"

Nicole sounded almost bored.

"You're his accomplice," Eames snarled. "You're in for multiple murders. You're going right to hell."

"My prints just prove one thing: that I sat in his damned van. Nothing more."

"They connect you with every murder we can charge him with," Barek explained. "There were genetic traces in the van proving that he transported his victims in the loading space. The last one was Allison Chalmers." She put a portrait of the young woman on the table. "She got kidnapped, tortured and killed because she knew Goren. Your cousin took her life because he wanted to hit Goren."

"Now I should be impressed?" Nicole chuckled. "Give me some dates. I'm quite sure that I have alibis for at least a few of them."

In the observation room Deakins and Stabler were following the interrogation. The detective clenched his fists so hard that the knuckles shone white, making his anger clearly visible.

He had followed his wife's advice and changed into fresh clothes. With the light stubble still shadowing his face the shadows under his eyes were not quite as obvious. Now Stabler leaned on the thin edge of the window's frame, staring at the blonde through the one-way mirror.

"She can put her damned alibis where the sun doesn't shine," Stabler growled lowly.

Deakins glanced at him and mused that it was better that he did not understand him. Then Stabler started pacing. The sight stabbed Deakins' heart as he was reminded of Goren.

"They're not getting anywhere," the SVU detective grumbled. "She's about to shut down completely. She's been cooperative so far. If she asks for her lawyer now she'll let us run into the next dead end."

"They have to get her to talk," Deakins murmured. "It might be Goren's last chance."

"Well, it's quite obvious that she won't talk," Stabler spat, gesturing wildly at the window. "The last time she reacted to the bad news about Goren! Why don't we use that now?"

_Why?_ Captain Deakins hazarded a guess and thought that Eames certainly had trouble with speaking about her partner. So she tried to find another way to break her. So far without success.

"Let me give it a try," Stabler said. "We don't have time to waste. C'mon!"

Undecidedly Deakins watched the detectives work Nicole Wallace. Stabler was right, there was no time to waste. But was his approach the right way to open her up? Sighing he made his decision.

"Okay, let's see if your tactic works better," he said.

Nodding excitedly Stabler turned on his heels and left the observation room. Out on the floor he stopped short. His mind was a blank. What did he want to tell her? To ask her?

Still he stood with his hand on the door handle. His heart beat wildly.

_God! It can't be that difficult. I told Cragen and Deakins…Hawkes… it shouldn't keep me from doing my job!_

Not willing to let the vivid memories take control of him he pressed the door handle down and entered the interrogation room. Surprised the Australian looked up at him, eyeing him up from head to toe and back.

"And you are?" she asked.

"Detective Stabler," he answered. "Special Victims Unit."

"Special Victims…" she mused. "What kind of unit is that?"

"Sex crimes," he bluntly said.

For a second silence fell. Nicole stared up at him, the set of his jaws, the icy look in his eyes, the expression on his face… and she knew. This man was definitely her cousin's type. Stabler would have to fear Randolph's interest, not Bobby.

Stabler did not intend to waste any more time. Supporting himself on the backrest of her chair Stabler bent over her to get in her face.

"Let's talk turkey, Nicole. The ladies here have a knack for beating about the bush, but you know what your fine cousin is doing and you know where he's doing it."

If he had not been so close Stabler might not have noticed Nicole's tiny flinch.

"I won't let you play with me. You know what he did? When we cornered him in the Bronx he tried to rape me, but he didn't succeed. So we both know that he's doing the same to your beloved Bobby now. _He_ is taking what _you_ always wanted to have."

Eames was stunned. Given what little Stabler knew about Nicole and Goren… Maybe she really was too deeply involved with Nicole if she did not give him credit for possibly understanding their relationship.

"It may be too late to save him from an assault, but you can still save his life." Stabler's blue eyes pierced her. His stare made her cringe, but she remained silent. Almost causing her chair to topple over backwards Stabler pushed himself off of her to leave.

"Barek, Eames, let's go. We're finished here," he said dryly, making a beeline for the door.

Eames was stunned. They had to try and get her to talk. He could not simply give up! Why would he do that? She had to stop him.

"Nicole, I really would like to know…"

"Eames!" Stabler bellowed. "It's enough. Let's go."

He opened the door and stepped aside, waiting for the two female detectives to leave. There he stood, his features stern and his gaze averted from the Australian. He looked at the wall and let the women pass.

Nicole saw them leave and her heart skipped a beat. Why did they not try to push further?

Stabler just turned to follow the detectives when Nicole shouted, "Wait!"

So he stopped under the door, but he did not turn.

"Come back."

Looking over his shoulder he asked, "Why should I? You don't have anything to say."

"I'll tell you," Nicole grumbled.

"Tell me what?"

"There's only one thing I can tell you," Nicole said tonelessly. "Honestly. It's all I know, I swear."

"What is it?"

xXx

**FDR Drive**

"Can't be where he's holding Goren. When he fled he was in open pasture. It must be outside of New York."

Eames was nervous. Actually she was agitated. Restlessly she was squirming in the passenger seat while Barek was driving. She was yearning to hold the steering wheel. It would distract her from her gloomy thoughts and give her something to occupy her mind with.

"But maybe we'll find a lead to his real hideaway," Logan said from the backseat.

"Let's hope so."

Following the Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive north they approached the Bronx again.

"If she would've talked earlier we could have stayed there," Eames grumbled. She still was mad at Stabler for what he had done in interrogation. So she was glad that he was riding in the other car. Of course she knew that he was right and his strategy worked, but she also knew Nicole's history. She could have refused to talk as well.

"Let's be content that she did talk," Deakins said, "and see if we can't find a trace of Goren there."

Eames sighed. Their captain was right. She appreciated that he went with them. His mere presence gave her something to rely on in the moments when she felt like crying, was about to break down screaming, or yearned to beat someone up. It was so unfair! Why was life that unfair? Why her partner, why Bobby? His life had been filled with misery since his childhood. Why was he not able to catch a break in his life?

Her chest was tight with grief. She wanted to believe that her partner and friend, the man she loved, still was alive and fighting. She could hardly bear the thought that she had let him down. They all had let him down. Despite their combined efforts they were not able to find him and she sensed that he was slipping away from them more and more.

_Hold on, Bobby,_ she pleaded inwardly with him. _Hold on! We're coming! I won't let you die! Don't you dare die on me!_

"That must be it," Barek murmured and pulled the car to the curb.

They alighted from the car and followed Barek to the front door. It was locked. So the detective went along the house in search of another entrance. Around the corner she found a side door which gave way when she pushed a bit harder. Drawing their weapons and flashlights the cops stalked inside.

"That's the stolen bike," Logan whispered as he spotted the machine in the first room.

They passed the door to the hall and explored each room with their service pieces ready in case they ran into their suspect. But the house was vacated. Just a few rats ran for the nearest hole when they were caught by rays of light.

"We missed him again," Logan swore. "Dammit!"

He was not alone with his opinion. By then Stabler and Benson had arrived, too. They accompanied the major case detectives when they all searched the house for leads their perv might have left. They did it with little energy. Their desperation, and desperation it was as their hope of finding Goren alive was dwindling rapidly, wore them down and added to their tiredness after days of searching in vain.

Sure, there was the bike, but what kind of traces might it hold? As Cockrill had stolen it the night before there were probably his prints and traces of his clothes, but nothing else on it would be relevant for their case.

"Look at that," Deakins called for his detectives.

On a table he spread a map he had found. There were marks on it. They were in different colors and in one corner a legend was drawn with several names on it.

"What the heck…" Eames stood right beside Deakins, the others surrounding them.

"The people he watched," Barek mused.

"Crap!" Logan panted from behind them, looking over his partner's shoulder. "There's every victim we found. When did he do that? He's alone! How could he follow all of them to get all these dates?"

"Good question," Deakins said. "If Nicole helped him? Maybe that's why she knew about this hideaway."

"But then she would have known about his interest in Bobby," Eames threw in. "She seemed genuinely surprised that he has been taken."

"She also said that she thought that her cousin wanted to match wits with him," Stabler told her. "She probably was interested in that challenge."

"Here's one name more than we know," Benson meddled in and pointed at it. "See? There's one more woman. Does that name sound familiar to you, Alex?"

;P"I'm not sure. Bobby has a lot of acquaintances."

"We should check it out," Deakins declared. Glancing over the detectives he noticed that Stabler appeared to be edgy. Maybe it was a good idea to get him out of here where their suspect had lived. So he said, "Benson, Stabler… you'll go and talk to her. Now."

Nodding his confirmation Stabler simply turned and left, Benson catching up on him after a few strides. That was when Deakins' cell phone rang. He answered the call, listened for a moment and then flipped the phone shut.

"That was Munch," he told the others. "The building is owned by a Torben Hardwood, lives in Woodbury, New Jersey. No current tenants. Logan, why don't you and Barek go and try find someone who saw our guy here?"

"Sure, Cap," Logan muttered and left with his partner.

"What about me?" Eames asked. "I need something to do, too."

"You can help me try to find any trace of Bobby here," her superior murmured. Suddenly his voice carried emotion. He knew Goren as long as she did, maybe not as well, but he was one of the few people her partner honestly respected.

Eames realized that examining the hideaway for traces of him actually was the hardest job and she felt honored that Deakins thought she would be able to do it.

"Thanks," she mumbled, starting to skim through a pile of papers on the cupboard on the wall.

"What for?" Deakins asked, slightly confused.

"Your trust."

They did not stay alone for long. A team of forensic scientists joined them. It was no one from Mac Taylor's team, but both cops had worked with them before.

While they were searching the premise Logan and Barek questioned the people in the neighborhood. Right across the street was a twenty-four/seven drug store and Logan strode in confidently.

"Hello," the man behind the counter said as the detective approached him, glancing up from his newspaper. "What can I…?" The sight of a gold shield pushed between his nose and his reading made him pause for a moment before he finished his sentence, "do for you, Detective?"

"The building across the street… noticed anyone there lately?"

"The house is abandoned. The owner would have to redevelop it but doesn't… so he finds no buyer either."

"Yeah, but did you see someone over there?"

"There were all kinds of scum housing over there. In the beginning we called the cops, they came, chased them away, the house got barricaded. But they came back. They always come back. Most people avoid the building because they have no idea who's hanging around there."

"What about the last few weeks?" Logan asked for the third time, his voice starting to carry his annoyance. "Seen anyone strange?"

"It's never paying to pay too much attention to other people business. Haven't seen anyone there."

"Okay, thank you, sir." Once Logan turned his back on the man he rolled his eyes.

xXx

**unknown location**

Time had lost its specifications. It did not seem to pass at all though it certainly was.

For Goren it had transformed into episodes of rest, beating and torture, which Goren, being in denial, could not bring himself to think of as _rape_. He did not know what to expect next and ceased to try and figure it out.

Right now Kirkpatrick was sleeping on the mattress he had brought in. Goren could not see him but he also saved himself the trouble to look around for him. The regular snores told him as well that the pervert was fast asleep.

Since the first piercing attack it did not matter if he kept his eyes open or closed. It was a mere choice between stone walls or blackness. At the moment he preferred blackness. As long as he did not try to move he could pretend to drift through space.

He longed for sleep or unconsciousness but neither of them would come. As much as his whole body hurt, he did not pass out. So he just could lie in his chains on the concrete floor, waiting for the next attack.

Even comforting illusions were no option. The last one he had was destroyed by the shock of the initial attack. Each time he tried to recall peaceful memories now he just met blankness. More vividly he remembered the facts which had brought him here. But they were told him by Kirkpatrick in this unnerving low voice, accompanied by a vicious smile.

There were no clear pictures of his partner, just shadows floating out of reach like ghosts, and Alex' voice remained an echo he was not even sure he ever had heard.

Something else came to his mind. He could just guess but he was relatively certain that he was held prisoner longer than any of the women. Kirkpatrick forced him to drink to keep him from dehydrating. The water came from the hose he had used to spray Goren down in a cold blast when he had had no other choice then let his own water run. Drinking from the hose was degrading, but it was better than to die of thirst.

Goren had thought about refusing, but once the cold liquid touched his lips his instincts had taken over. The same applied to the food Kirkpatrick had given him. It did not come as regularly as the water, but when he got some he ate with pure instinct of self preservation.

His captor's actions could not fool him, though. Judging by the moans and cries the man uttered each time he forced himself on him, he was truly enjoying himself… and he did not want to give this up. So Goren knew that he only supplied him with food to keep him strong enough to be used and abused. As long as Kirkpatrick did not lose his interest in him there was no way that he would quit that ill-treatment.

Goren on the other hand was more than willing to quit. Convinced that he would not live to see sunlight again he wished for death rather than being held a slave.

Deep in morbid thoughts he did not notice the man approach until he felt the hands on his hips, stroking downwards to caress the buttocks. Left with no mental energy he did not even flinch or gasp due to the touch.

And that did not remain unobserved by Kirkpatrick.

"Hey, Bobby. You with me, pal?"

Just for this _pal_-shit Goren would have cheerfully shot him if he only had had a gun. Instead his only option was to react or not to react. He did not.

"C'mon, Bobby. You're spoiling the fun," Kirkpatrick complained.

_What fun?_ The prospect of being beaten up or being raped for the umpteenth time was nothing Goren could refer to as _fun_.

Kirkpatrick tried to trigger a reaction by slapping his back and sexual assault but nothing worked. When he realized that Goren's passiveness could not be broken by threats he got up, got dressed and left the cellar to play his last joker.

tbc…


	26. Chapter 25

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thank you very much for the wonderful reviews. They are the fuel that keeps me going. Special thanks to _UnstoppableForce_ for the favorite. I'm really sorry that it took so long again. I will try to be faster with the next chapter. Special thanks to _Bammi1_ and _JO_ for their help and to _Blucougar57_ for the new passion. ;) LOL Enjoy.

**25**

**Flatlands 7****th**** Street**

**Canarsie**

**Brooklyn**

"Okay, here we go," Stabler said, holding the door for his partner. "Let's see if anybody's home."

"Yep."

Through the door in the fence they entered a strip of garden in front of the house. Trees were stretching their branches over the street. The two story building had a narrow front porch and a screen door. Following the way over to the stairs the detectives went up to the door where Benson knocked on it. When nothing happened she knocked a second time.

"Yeah?" a sleepy voice came from inside.

"Miss Stanton?" Benson asked. "Miss Darcy Stanton?"

"Who's there?" Suspicion pushed the tiredness aside. "I don't want anything. Go away."

"Miss Stanton, it's the police. We need to talk to you!"

"Police?"

Still she did not open the door. Benson and Stabler exchanged looks. He shrugged, which left her to solve the situation.

"Yes, ma'am. Detectives Benson and Stabler, Manhattan SVU. Can we come in for a moment?"

They heard the ratcheting sound of a chain locked in position, then the door opened and Miss Stanton peeked through the gap.

"Can I see ID, please?" she asked. Now she sounded tired again and a bit unnerved.

"Sure."

Both detectives flashed their badges and Miss Stanton eyed them intently. Then the door fell shut again, the chain rattled and then the door opened completely.

"Please, come in, Detectives," Miss Stanton said, showing them into the living room. "Have a seat. I could do with some coffee. Do you want a cup?"

"We'd appreciate it, Miss Stanton" Benson said while both sat down on the couch.

Actually the woman looked as if she needed the moment preparing the coffee to pull herself together. They both had the impression that that they had woken her up. The brunette woman in her late thirties only wore jeans shorts and a t-shirt and padded on bare feet over to the kitchen counter.

"Please, you can call me Darcy," she offered and added for good measure, "I was working the nightshift."

"We are sorry to disturb you, Darcy," Stabler gently said, "but it's really important."

"Yeah, it's okay. You couldn't know I was on nightshift. I'm a nurse at New York Presbyterian Hospital. What can I do for you?"

"Darcy, your name appeared in the course of our investigation and we would like to ask you some routine questions. Okay?" Encouragingly Benson smiled at her.

"Sure, ask away."

"Darcy, we learned that you called your local precinct a few weeks ago," Stabler started, trying to confirm the information they got during their drive over to Brooklyn.

"Yes, I did."

"You said that you felt as if someone was stalking you…?"

"Yep." She filled three big mugs and put them on a tray. Then she carried it over to the coffee table where she put a mug down in front of each detective. Taking her own coffee she sat cross-legged in an easy chair. "There was that guy, watching me. At least I was under that impression, so I called the police. I thought he might get scared off when he knew that he was uncovered."

"Can you describe him?" Benson wanted to know.

"He was lurking in the shadows, always making sure that he could not clearly be seen. And then he didn't come anymore. The cops must have driven him away."

"When was that? I mean, when did you see him the last time?"

"Hmmm… that was about…two months ago."

_Long enough,_ Stabler thought. _He paused watching her before he committed the first abduction and murder. We know that he must have planned the whole string a long time in advance and Darcy's observation just confirmed it._

"You said that my name appeared in the course of an investigation," Darcy said. "What kind of investigation? Did that guy bother other women, too?"

"Well, Darcy," Benson started carefully. "He did more than just stalk them. They are dead."

Wide-eyed she looked up from her coffee.

"Come again?"

"They are dead," Benson repeated. "He killed them."

"And how… did my name come up?" Darcy rasped. She had trouble holding her mug as her hands started to shake.

Both detectives exchanged a glance before Benson told her, "It was on a handwritten list we found in the suspect's hideaway."

Icy cold shudders washed over Darcy. Now she had to put down the mug before she spilled any coffee. She felt sick to her stomach but she had to know, "And the other women on that list?"

Benson thought about how to soften the blow, but there was not really an easy way to tell her. So she simply said, "They are all dead."

"Oh, my God!" Darcy raised her hand to cover her mouth. She was not sure if she would have to throw up or not. Gently rocking forward and back in her easy chair she tried to digest the plain facts the detective had given her. Suddenly an idea hit her.

"Detective Benson…" she started to ask, her voice shaky, "you're not talking about the serial killer who's on the news all the time, are you?"

"Yes."

Darcy swallowed hard.

"Oh, my God," she panted, frantically. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"

"Darcy…" Benson said, scooting forward on the sofa, uncertain if she should go and comfort the woman or not.

"Oh, my God!" she yelled, her voice raising an octave. "Oh, my God, he has Bobby!"

Both detectives looked at each other, puzzled, as she was referring to their colleague as _Bobby_.

"So that horrible picture that was on the news... Good Lord! You say that animal is after me?"

"Excuse me, Darcy," Stabler queried, pushing for confirmation, "but, who do you mean with Bobby?"

"Bobby Goren, Detective Goren," she said. "We grew up together, here in Canarsie. Went to the same school, met for baseball in the park with Lewis…" Her voice trailed off and tears shot into her eyes. "God, poor Bobby. I can't even begin to imagine what he's going through."

"So you are a close friend to Detective Goren?" Stabler wanted to know.

"Well, yes," she choked between tears. "We were and are again."

"That sounds as if you had problems once," Benson said.

"Hmmm, I wouldn't call it problems. We were engaged."

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

CSU was still working at the Locust's hideaway when the detectives arrived back at One Police Plaza. Deakins' interest had been piqued when Stabler had called to report the news about Darcy Stanton. On their drive back to the headquarters he gave Eames the new information.

Eames was stunned. She never knew that her partner had been engaged. She was curious and anxious to meet the woman who had almost married Robert Goren.

Upon entering the squad room she spotted Darcy Stanton through the glass walls of the task room where she was talking with Stabler. Benson was nowhere to be seen. Tutuola and Munch worked the phones at Goren and Logan's desks.

_Good looking girl,_ Eames noticed, looking the woman over. She had a wild short haircut with red highlights in her maroon hair. Shadows under her green eyes indicated that she had cried. She looked as if she was close to tears right now.

Eames could understand her. Her own tears lurked right under her eyelids, ready to fall any second. Her grief tightened her stomach and throat and made it hard to breathe. She did not want to even think about the possibility that they would not find him in time. No way!

Renewed energy surged through her system.

Darcy Stanton was a lead, a weak, uncertain lead, but a lead she was.

"Wait a second," Deakins stopped her when she was about to storm into the task room. "Let's wait for Benson to return."

"We could also wait in there," Eames replied, eager to get to know the woman who once owned her partner's tender heart. The heart she had tried to win.

"I know," the captain said with a small smile. "That's why we're waiting."

Eames frowned. "I can handle it, Cap," she said. "I know he's no saint. There had to be women somewhere at sometime in his life."

"And now we stumbled over one of them and she's scared to death because she's on the hit list of a serial killer."

"How could he have found her?" Eames mused. "None of us knew anything about her. So how did Cockrill find out about Darcy? Did he have time to achieve all of his knowledge on his own? Maybe someone helped him."

"He's Nicole Wallace's cousin. It's likely that he has lots of information from her."

"Yeah," Eames said thoughtfully. "For Nicole it's a sport to find the tiniest bit of information about Bobby and turn it into something she can use against him. She has proven her wicked mind more than just once." Her gaze rested on the woman in the task room. "But I don't think that we should bother Nicole again. She won't talk."

Deakins nodded slowly.

That was when Benson entered the squad room and without a further word Deakins and Eames followed her to the task room. They all entered and found a place to sit at the big table.

"I still can't believe it, Captain," Darcy turned to Deakins. "Why would a serial killer target me? What have I done? What does he see in me?"

Since they arrived at One Police Plaza Stabler had tried to keep her from panicking, but had not been very successful. Just when he thought that she finally calmed down she talked herself into the next panic.

"Actually it takes very little to rouse the attention of men like him," Deakins answered her question. "They have a special type of victim on their mind that they're looking for."

"But why me? I don't even look like the other women in any way!" Still she was agitated. "That he has watched me for such a long time gives me the creeps! Back then I thought it was scary, but now…" Her voice trailed off and she gasped for breath. She sounded hoarse when she said, "God! That was when I saw him the last time."

"When you saw whom?" Deakins gently asked.

"Bobby."

"When was that?"

"Hmmm… two, maybe two and a half months ago," Darcy moaned with the thought of Goren being at the mercy of the killer. "On the phone I told him that I went to the precinct again because the man still was stalking me, and about the cops who said that there was not much they could do because that man was only watching me. Bobby came over to see if he could catch him."

"Did the man show up that night?" Eames asked.

"No."

"You said that you once were engaged to Detective Goren," Stabler mused. "How's your relationship to him now?"

"Amicable," Darcy answered right away. "After we broke up we each went our own ways, but when Bobby was back in New York we started to meet again, but only on the terms of a friendship. We both agreed that we should not try to get back together."

"How close is that friendship?" Eames prodded and was surprised to feel a sting of jealousy.

"Well, as close as a childhood friendship can be after almost forty years. Sometimes we both meet with Lewis, too, or we go for a coffee, to the theatre, musical… stuff like that. At times Bobby also helps me around the house."

"I see," Deakins murmured thoughtfully. He could see the man, or maybe Nicole, follow Goren to Darcy Stanton. So the killer could rightfully assume that they were friends… and add her as possible victim to his list. "Miss Stanton, we will place you into protective custody until the man is caught."

"You really think that he'll come after me, right?" she asked with a trembling voice.

"As we can't exclude it we shouldn't take any risk," Deakins explained. "We'll take you to a hotel where you will stay under our protection."

"For how long?"

"Until we catch him," Stabler said with determination. He was not willing to accept another outcome.

"Exactly," Deakins confirmed, though he harbored doubts. He pushed them aside because he did not want them to take over his thoughts. He had to think positive or not think at all.

Slowly Darcy nodded. Anxiety knotted her insides. Her insecure future made her edgy.

"Okay, Miss Stanton. Detectives Benson and Eames will stay with you while we arrange your accommodation. Okay?"

"Yeah," she said absently. "Sure."

Upon leaving the office with Stabler on his heels Deakins spotted Barek and Logan who returned from questioning neighbors of the Locust's hideaway.

"Nothing new," Logan said before the captain could ask.

"At least nothing that might help us," Barek added. They both dropped in two office chairs and stretched their limbs. "A bed, a bed, my kingdom for a bed," Barek sighed.

Logan smirked at her. "Is that the woman from the list?" he asked, nodding at the office.

"Yep," Stabler confirmed. "Former fiancé of Goren."

"Fiancé?" Logan almost dropped out of his chair with surprise. "You're kidding!"

"Nope. We'll arrange a protective detail for her. I guess I'll get busy on that right now."

"Aren't you forgetting something, Detective?" Deakins asked, stopping him on his way to a free phone.

"Huh?"

"If I'm not mistaken _you_ have your appointment with Dr. Skoda, right, Detective Stabler?" Deakins eyed him intently.

"Well, isn't Miss Stanton's safety more important?" Stabler asked back.

"Detectives Tutuola and Munch can take care of organizing that," Deakins told him sternly. "And don't roll your eyes at me, Detective," he scolded, seeing his play of features. "Take your foul mood and go and annoy Skoda." Watching Stabler's face turn sour but turn wordlessly and leave, Deakins was glad that he did not have to tell him twice. Turning back to Logan and Barek, he said, "And you two take some time out. Go to the crib and take a nap."

He did not have to repeat that order. Both detectives were way too tired not to agree with it. They had hardly left when Eames joined her captain again.

"I'd like to make a suggestion," she said.

xXx

"Thanks for squeezing me in, Doc," Stabler said as he took a seat in the chair Dr. Emil Skoda was offering him. They met in an office at One Police Plaza so Stabler was especially grateful for not having to drive through half of Manhattan to his session.

"Well, you sounded very urgent," Skoda warded off, "and what little you told me on the phone convinced me that I'm needed here now."

"Well, thanks." A little uncomfortable Stabler shifted his sitting position.

"Maybe it would be best if you tell me what happened to you," Skoda said to get them started.

"There's not much to tell," Stabler said. "We were pursuing our suspect when he attacked me. He managed to disarm and cuff me and dragged me down to the cellar."

His voice started to shake and he had to stop. Maybe it was not that easy to talk about it after all. Suddenly Stabler felt the humiliation, the degradation. His mind catapulted him back to that dark room, lit only by the glimmer of the small flashlight. He saw the man over him, pinning him down with his weight. Stabler could not defend himself, his arms being cuffed behind his back. He was helpless. Feeling the gun press against his head he had no choice but to give in to the killer's french kisses.

"You okay?" Skoda asked as he saw Stabler slightly lose color.

"Y-yeah," he croaked. "Just… those memories were quite vivid."

"I see. Tell me about them."

So Stabler told him everything about the assault. While he was talking he quickly regained his composure and color. The psychiatrist let him talk freely, making mental notes about things he would like to address later.

"Detective Barek, she's with Major Case, right?" Skoda asked when Stabler came to the point when his colleague just came in time to save him from getting raped.

"Yeah, she is," Stabler confirmed. "She saved my ass, figuratively… and literally."

Slowly Skoda nodded. "You're already working again?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel on the job?"

"A bit odd," Stabler confessed. "It's funny, but I don't think that it's an effect of what he did to me, but I feel as if my co-workers look upon me differently, those who know what happened." He bit his bottom lip. "Does that make any sense?"

"Yes, it does."

"It only happened twice and it was only like a flash." For a moment he remained silent, alone with his memories. "We found one of the suspect's hideaways. It was peculiar to be where he lived. I was searching the place like every other crime scene. It was peculiar in the sense that I did not feel disgusted, reminded of the attempted rape or anything."

"What did you feel?" Skoda could not help his curiosity.

For a moment Stabler thought about it.

"Satisfaction."

A little surprised Skoda raised his eyebrows. "Why satisfaction?"

"I thought you could explain that," Stabler grumbled. He was not that good at interpreting himself.

"I would like you to explore it yourself."

Stabler frowned over an annoyed grimace. "Why shouldn't I be satisfied? Is that a bad thing?"

"I didn't say that. I would just like to know what you think it is."

"I was glad that we caught up on him. I thought that we might have a chance to catch him now. We found more information about him, information that will help us to catch him."

"Did it help?"

"Not yet."

"He's still holding Detective Goren captive, right?"

_Wham!_

Stabler had not been prepared for that question. Being confronted with Goren so suddenly pulled the rug from under him.

"Yes, he is," he said tonelessly.

"How does that make you feel after what the perp has done to you?"

The question hit Stabler like a fist in the stomach.

"Angry," he panted before he could think about it. He balled his fists. "Mad as hell, to be exact."

"What else?" Skoda simply asked.

"What else?" Stabler was confused. He had expected Skoda to ask him how he handled his rage, but instead he prodded for more. At the base of his head he felt goose bumps start to crawl down his back, because he realized what the psychiatrist obviously sensed. To his own surprise he was ready to talk about it.

"Guilt."

Once more Skoda nodded. "Why?"

"Because I let it happen," Stabler replied at once. "I could have stopped the perv, but instead I allowed him to get the better of me."

"It's your fault."

"Yes."

Now Skoda remained silent. He let Stabler's _yes_ hang in the air like a cloud of smoke and just like that it spread poison in the space between the two men. Watching the detective closely he noticed tiny twitches that made his features play uncomfortably.

"No," Stabler suddenly said. "At least not because of what happened at the factory, but maybe I could have prevented him being taken at all."

"How?"

"I figured out a clue the killer had left and went to tell Goren about it, but I was too late, the man just had taken him. I got beaten unconscious and when I came to again Goren was gone."

"I see."

"Do you?" Stabler frowned. "I screwed up two times. I'm a miserable failure. Goren could be free and Alison Chalmers still alive if I wouldn't have let myself be overwhelmed like a damned rookie."

The detective's self-loathing did not really surprise Skoda, because he had seen it in earlier sessions already. After a psych evaluation by one of Skoda's colleagues Stabler's job had been at risk and Skoda had examined the cops in question to see if the doubts about their qualification were eligible. Back then he had seen it for the first time, the rage. And he also had seen the doubts Elliot Stabler harbored about himself. Skoda had cleared him because he found out that the comment that made his credibility questionable had been taken out of context.

"And that makes you angry, right?" Skoda asked.

"That he could take me out so easily? Twice?" Stabler snapped. "Yeah, that makes me angry. It makes me angry that I got away and Goren was taken, and it makes me angry that…" He stopped himself. He was not ready to talk about that.

"That what?" Skoda prodded.

"Nothing. Forget it."

"No way. What is it?"

Stabler grimaced. _Shit._

"I… I said stuff I shouldn't have said," he finally admitted.

"To Detective Goren?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

"Mean stuff."

"Like what?"

Now Stabler rolled his eyes. "That he's unstable, a loose cannon. I don't understand him because he's so unconventional and I took my anger about my confusion out on him."

"And?"

"And… I couldn't tell him that I changed my mind before he was taken." Now it was out. Hell, it had not been that difficult after all. Still he felt embarrassed. Usually he was not one who jumped to conclusions about people, but he had done so with Goren because he had heard all the rumors about him and was too annoyed to have to work with Major Case to form an opinion about Goren himself.

"And that is what makes you angry?"

"Yes."

Skoda nodded, eyeing the detective intently.

"I can sense that we're on the perv's trail. Don't take me off the case now. Please."

Surprised Skoda raised one eyebrow. The detective was determined. More important than that was that Skoda truly believed that Stabler was able to control his rage. His judgment should not be tainted by what happened.

"I don't intend to," Skoda said. "But I think that we should talk with each other again. Soon."

Stabler sighed a breath of relief.

xXx

Alexandra Eames was exhausted. She did not like to admit it but she needed some rest. How long she sat with Darcy Stanton waiting for the arrangements to be made Eames could not tell. They could be glad that they found her in time. As she was Goren's ex-fiancé the killer might want to use her to extort him further. So they finally were one step ahead of the perp.

By the time uniformed officers took Darcy to her hotel Stabler was back from his session with Skoda. Eames talked with him about the case until he insisted on her getting some rest, too. Finishing some paperwork first he then followed her to the crib to take a nap. Benson accompanied them, too. As they went in Barek and Logan just got up and returned to work.

But sleep did not come easy for any of them, especially for Eames who had tried some relaxing tea Benson had recommended to her. They had shared a cup before they laid down.

Now, despite that tea, Eames was wide awake again, unable to think of anything other than Bobby. She lay back on the cot in the crib but it was impossible to sleep.

_Just get some rest_, she thought.

But it didn't work. The more she tried to relax the more wound up she became. Mercilessly time was passing. Benson and Stabler got up again but did not notice that she was awake. Feeling that nothing would change Eames got up and snuck out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Logan asked as she crossed the hall.

She looked around to find him shuffling after her. After the short time he had slept he looked even more beat than before.

"I need some fresh air," Eames said. "Maybe I can get some sleep then."

"Want me to come with you?" Logan offered, eager to leave for a moment, too.

"I'd like to be alone. I'll be back in about fifteen minutes."

"Okay," he murmured and continued back to the squad room. Eames yawned wide as soon as Logan turned his back on her.

Eames took the elevator and went out of One Police Plaza. She left the building on the side facing the river. A soft breeze blew in her face as she walked on towards the East River.

Too tired and consumed with thoughts she did not notice that she was followed.

_A fiancé. Who would have thought that Bobby once was engaged. But then again… why shouldn't he have been engaged?_

Because she felt a sting of jealousy each time she thought of the word _fiancé_. How much would she like to be a fiancé, Bobby's fiancé.

_Here I am racking my mind over what-ifs. That sadistic killer is still holding him captive, he's badly hurt, and I'm thinking about my possible love-life, feeling sorry for myself. God, I hope he'll be alright!_

Despite her hopes and prayers she knew that he would not be alright. The video was proof of that and since then his situation could only get worse.

_Provided we find him in time, how will we find him? What kind of condition will he be in? And when he's saved, how will he feel about all that happened? Will he be able to deal with it? Will I be able to deal with it?_ She scowled at the pavement she was walking on, not realizing where she was going. _Will we have a chance once he's freed and recovered?_

Eames sighed.

_Recovered!_ she thought with a flash of panic. _I wish we'd know for sure that we'll get him out. I don't want to try and imagine what he's going through! He's counting on us! And we let him down!_ A sob caught in her throat. _How must he feel in his prison? Being abandoned by all of us! Left alone to deal on his own with the sick killer._

Still caught in her own mind she did not notice the truck that was following her.

_Maybe I shouldn't have done it. We shouldn't load that risk on __anyone__'s shoulders. How can we dare to use __anyone__ as bait?_

It had been a logical step to make the suggestion to Deakins as the Locust already had Darcy on his list. He planned to kill her anyway, so why not use her and offer the killer the opportunity?

So now an officer who could pass as Darcy's twin sister was going to sit in the house in Canarsie with protection on her, waiting for the killer to come for her.

_It's not only a logical step,_ Eames thought. _It's also a desperate step. We've run out of options so we hope that he'll take the bait and the trap will snap._

Suddenly she felt fabric over her face and the trap snapped shut for her. Eames tried to scream and grabbed for her gun as she recognized the smell of ether.

The drug effectively sent her to sleep. She slumped down in the arms of the attacker. He lifted her up and carried her the few yards to his car.

xXx

It only took Logan a few seconds to review his decision.

_We don't know what this freak is up to_, he thought._We have no idea if Cockrill will fall for our trap. __I should've gone with Alex, no matter what she said_.

So he got up but could only catch the next ride with the elevator. On his way down to base level he thought of the directions she might have taken.

_She would not leave towards the municipal building to take a walk around the block._

When he left the building he knew he was right as he saw her disappear round a distant corner. He fell into a trot to catch up with her. Having her right in his view as she walked down Pearl Street he trotted along after her. The moment he reached the next crossing his heart began to race.

Way down the street he saw a truck pull up on the curb next to his fellow detective. A massive form alighted from it and attacked Eames before she even knew what happened. Then the man was lifting the petite blond detective in his arms.

Logan pulled out his gun.

"NYPD," he yelled and felt a sudden déjà vu. "Freeze!"

The person he supposed to be the fake Kirkpatrick made a few fast steps and pushed the unconscious woman into the car.

"Police! Freeze!" Logan repeated, his gun aimed, moving forward as fast as he dared.

Now the man pulled out a gun of his own and Logan was about to fire when his opponent beat him to it. A bullet grazed Logan's right upper arm and made it impossible for him to pull the trigger.

Logan saw some people run for cover.

The man played linebacker and ran into Logan head first. Both tumbled down and Logan was hit against the right wrist. His gun flew out of his hand and slid over the asphalt.

Kirkpatrick tried to aim at him.

_A silencer,_ Logan realized. Reflexively he grabbed the wrist and twisted it until Kirkpatrick let the gun fall. Now they where wrestling with each other. Scrambling to their feet they lunged at each other again and tumbled aside into bushes. They dove into the green area of an apartment complex and vanished from view from the street.

Screaming Kirkpatrick threw himself against the detective and both crashed into the undergrowth. Kirkpatrick took hold of Logan's throat. The detective curled and slung his left leg around Kirkpatrick's neck. They rolled to the side and Logan was on top of him. He got a blow to the cheek and another to the ear.

Once more they rolled to the side and smashed into a tree. Logan groaned as the pain shot through his back. His grip lessened a bit and Kirkpatrick wriggled free. As he got up, Logan grabbed his ankle and brought him down again. Brushes smacked both their faces as they went to the ground. Logan crawled on the man's back and tried to take hold of an arm. He was hit by an elbow. Regardless he got his cuffs out and grabbed for the wrists.

With an enormous effort Kirkpatrick spun around his axis and shook the detective off. Before Logan even knew what happened, the man had taken his cuffs away from him, and one of the halves closed around his own right wrist.

_Fuck!_ Logan kicked at Kirkpatrick who seemed to be totally unimpressed.

He twisted the detective's arm and dragged him a few feet over the ground to close the other half of the cuff around the thick base of a bush.

_Shit_, Logan thought, just a second before he got a kick in the stomach. He gasped for air. As he raised his free arm to intercept the next kick he was hit hard with the heavy boots Kirkpatrick wore. It felt as if the bone was broken. He curled up to protect his body with his legs but was hit again in the stomach. The breast, his knee, his head.

He curled up as tight as his cuffed right arm allowed and hoped that the killer would let go of him. Again he was hit in the side, at his thigh.

Suddenly the attacks stopped. Instead he felt something around his neck. A noose out of leather, a belt. From behind it was pulled tight and choked him. Logan could feel the knee in his back.

_No. Alex. Carolyn. Air. Help me._

He struggled against the grip but had no chance to get loose. Everything blurred and went dark.

xXx

"Barek? Where's Eames?" Deakins asked as he entered the bullpen.

"Isn't she in the crib?" Barek replied, confused. "We decided to let her rest a little longer, but now I'm searching for her. Her and Mike."

"No, she's not there." Deakins shook his head. "I thought you might have seen her. I can't find Logan either."

"I thought Mike would be here or in the restroom when I didn't see him when I returned from CSU. I wanted to ask you all if I should go to our favorite Chinese and get us something to eat."

"I just came from the men's room. He's not there." Deakins frowned. "Is there a note or something?"

Barek glanced over the desk. "No. But they can't be far away, right?"

The captain raised an eyebrow.

"I imagine Alex was having an office-fit," Barek said. "Perhaps she just went to take a walk around the block and Mike decided to accompany her."

"They should know better than to simply wander away."

"So they will be right back from wherever they went."

"Or something might have happened to them." Deakins did not know why he had this terrible feeling in his gut that told him that something was going absolutely wrong.

_Must be the exhaustion_, he thought. _I'm seeing ghosts around every corner._ _Well, one of my detectives is missing, another was assaulted and the CSI threatened... And the rest of the squad is in a bad state for working over-overtime_.

Yet, he could not help this miserable feeling.

"I'll call downstairs to ask if anyone saw them leaving the building," he said and went to his office.

Barek nodded her agreement, dropped in her chair, grabbed a file and started reading. A minute later Deakins reappeared beside her desk.

"They left via Pearl Street," he said bluntly. "At first Eames and then Logan followed her."

"Where would they go?" Barek considered.

"Let's check it."

Deakins already put his jacket on and headed for the door. Barek caught up with him at the elevator.

xXx

When he woke up he groaned. His arm hurt. Everything else hurt, too.

The next moment realization dawned. Logan knew he was incredibly lucky for regaining consciousness.

His right arm still was cuffed to the bush. High on the upper arm his leather jacket was ripped.

_Where the bullet grazed me,_ he remembered. _Whoa, somehow I can still feel the belt around my neck_.

Then he recognized that it really was there. With his left hand he reached up to his neck and got entangled in branches. With some effort Logan fumbled with the belt to get it loose. Having to use the probably broken forearm hurt awfully.

_Did he leave me for dead? _Logan mused_. He's killed so many people before. It's a miracle I'm still alive._

In his pocket he searched for the keys, the pain becoming agonizing as he had to twist it to reach inside. Then Logan opened the cuffs. Awkwardly, desperately searching for support somewhere but grabbing only in the bushes, Logan got up to his feet. Darkness enveloped him. In the green area he had lost his orientation. Was there a street light?

"Shit," he muttered. "Shit!"

Slowly, swaying, he trotted towards that light.

_A damned silencer_, he thought. _So close to a building full of cops it's the best way to prevent anyone from noticing a gunfight_.

He felt dizzy and stumbled against the next tree for support. His vision blurred. As he coughed he tasted blood.

_Jeez. Broken ribs, too?_

Still the single light was all he could see through the bushes.

_Didn't anyone __notice our__ fight?_he thought_. __The abduction? Fuck! __Why didn't anybody call the cops?__ A fucking kidnapping and there's no one calling for help!?_

Somehow he had to reach One Police Plaza. He did not know how he was going to manage this task, but he would get there nevertheless.

He barely crept forward. It became worse as there was nothing he could use for further support. The pain was blinding. It drove tears in his eyes. Dizziness let him stumble.

Through branches he crushed down on hands and knees and his left arm cried fire. It gave way under his weight and he landed on his side.

_I have to get up_!

But then he decided that it would be easier to move on all fours – or better threes. So he was crawling forward at a snail's pace.

When he looked up he saw the street just about five yards away.

_Why not __five__ thousand?_

He was so tired. Just a minute of sleep. He coughed again. Pain stabbed him in his chest and he tried to gasp.

When he finally was moving again it was painfully slow. One look ahead – he just crawled about two yards.

Were there people moving on the sidewalk? He could only see mere shadows. Anyway he yelled for help. At least he thought he was yelling but it was nothing more than a gasp.

xXx

Barek felt her heart catch in her throat when she went around the corner and saw her partner on all fours, crawling out of the green area to their left, blood on his face, desperately trying to move. Just for a second she froze in place. Then she followed Deakins and knelt down beside Logan.

"Captain Deakins speaking, 10-13, officer down." Deakins called from his cell phone. "We need a bus. Pearl Street to St. James Place. I repeat, officer down."

"Mike? Can you hear me?" Barek asked.

She was horrified. Even though she was afraid of worsening his injuries, she cradled him in her arms. Obviously it did help. His breaths came more evenly. She saw his lips curl. Was he trying to say something? She leaned closer.

"Alex," he whispered, blood bubbling in his mouth. "He's…" His voice trailed off.

"Mike, don't talk." Wide-eyed Barek stared at him. "I'm here. You'll be okay. The medics are on their way. Just stay calm."

"…taken her."

It was so low, Barek was not sure if she really had heard words.

"Mike. Blink twice for yes, okay. Are you trying to say that someone has abducted Alex?"

Even though he was weak he blinked distinctively.

In the distance sirens were whining.

"They're almost here," Barek said. "Don't quit, Mike. You'll make it! You hear me? You'll make it or I'll kill you."

Deakins could not help but notice that Barek sounded just like Eames. Then her words and Logan's reaction took on meaning. Eames was kidnapped! Logan must have tried to defend her… and was defeated.

The ambulance came to a halt and the siren died away. Paramedics jumped out and hurried to Logan. The detective was hardly breathing and the blood which filled his mouth testified clearly to the ruptured lungs.

"What's his name?" one of the medics asked even though he was pushing Barek aside to have free access to the injured man.

"Mike," she sobbed.

Carefully Deakins took hold of her shoulders. "He'll make it," he said. Yet, he could not truly believe his own words. It was what he was wishing for, knowing that he might not get it.

Barek was so upset by the sight of the medics working on her badly injured partner that she turned to bury her face at Deakins' shoulder. For a moment he allowed her to cry. Then he carefully pushed her back.

"Detective Barek," he addressed her in a formal way to get her attention. He watched the medics lift Logan onto a gurney. "I assume that you want to go to hospital with your partner."

She nodded slightly.

"I will be there, too. But first I have to initiate the search for the man who's attacked Logan. Who was most likely the fake Kirkpatrick. His car will probably be on the surveillance tapes at One Police Plaza. I have to check this. Then I'll come to the hospital, too."

"You can get in the passenger seat in front," one of the paramedics said and helped her climb in.

Worried sick Deakins followed the ambulance with his eyes. Their trap did not work. All their efforts backfired. Now Eames was taken, too. Logan was life-threateningly injured. They were running out of time.

Fighting desperately for strength and determination he turned and marched back to the headquarters.

tbc…


	27. Chapter 26

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! They're all really appreciated. Thanks to _bammi1_ for beta-reading and to _JO_ for the advice. Enjoy.

**26**

_Damn! Where did the fucking cop come from? Logan had not been with her when she left the precinct. And then he was behind me!_

He cursed himself for letting himself be surprised like that. He could deal with probable bystanders, but he hated it when he miscalculated cops.

Well, now Detective Alex lay in the back of his car.

_I should try to find another,_ he thought. _As the fight got witnessed, they'll certainly get descriptions of the car, maybe part of the license. I need to change cars._

As he was driving he scanned the curb for a suitable vehicle.

"Oh, my dear Alex, you'll be of great help," he murmured, knowing quite well that she could not hear him. "Too bad that you can't help me now to choose a car. Which model would you like? A sportscar? A van? A station wagon? A limo?"

He chuckled.

"Whatever… It just needs to have four tires and a body to carry us in." A thought crossed his mind and he laughed. "Maybe we could get one from Lewis!"

A red light stopped his drive.

_What about that one there?_

That one was a grey Honda, reliable and inconspicuous. Exactly what he needed.

So he pulled the truck up on the curb right behind the Honda. He got out and had the car open in a matter of seconds. _Okay, babe, let's go._

"So, sweetie," he purred as he bent into the truck to pull Eames out. "Isn't it nice of Brad to loan us his car? So we won't have to worry about making it out to Jersey. C'mon, baby."

He hauled Eames over to the Honda and maneuvered her into the backseat. Bending into the car he got out her handcuffs and tied her hands with them. Then he went around the car, sat into the driver's seat and drove away.

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

**Manhattan**

When Deakins arrived back at the squad room he found it busy as an anthill.

A board now stood in the middle of the bullpen, a map pinned up on it. Two red pins near One Police Plaza marked the spots where Eames had been taken and where Logan had been found. Right then Munch stuck another pin in at the crossing of Bowery and Kenmare St. Tutuola and Benson were in the task room, sitting over files. And Stabler was on two phones at the same time.

"No! I won't take a no as an answer!" he shouted into his cell phone. "You will find the damned truck! No one will go home until you found it! Jackson! Is CSU at the scene now?"

"Yes, they are," Detective Jackson confirmed, sounding pissed.

"Do you have a problem?" Stabler snapped.

Jackson as well as other major case detectives had spotted Deakins and looked at him questioningly. The captain knew what was to come. He had only placed that one call, letting Stabler know that Eames had been taken, and now he stepped into a fevered beehive.

"I'm the lead detective on the case," Stabler continued, unfazed by Jackson's attitude.

"Eames is," Daley spat.

"We were leading the case together and since she's not here, I'm in charge!" Stabler stood his ground, never even glancing at Deakins. "Excuse me, can you please repeat that?" he said to the one on the phone. "Yes, I got it… Munch!"

Deakins did not pay attention to what Stabler said next because he had to answer his own cell phone. "Deakins. Yes, Detective Taylor. That's great, thanks." Snapping the phone shut he turned to Munch who still stood next to the board. "Black Hyundai Tucson, New York plates, DKE-5837."

Without hesitation Munch wrote the information down and pinned the paper on the board. "Did they find a witness?"

"Security footage," Deakins replied.

"He gave it to dispatch, too. I just got confirmation of a sighting at Bowery and East Houston," Stabler shouted at Munch who stuck another pin in the map. "Heading north… you got four units there? Alright."

"Hope we won't lose him again," Deakins murmured as he turned to go to his office. Now that they actually could do something the detectives were bursting with energy. Sitting down at his desk Deakins called Barek.

xXx

**New York City Health**

**125 Worth St # 510**

**Manhattan**

It was not the biggest hospital but definitely the closest to the shooting site.

When they had pushed Logan's gurney out of the ambulance Barek had been at his side, but she could not stay there for long as the medics chased her away to get room for the doctors.

"I'm here, Mike!" she yelled when she was urged aside. "I'm with you, partner! Hang in there!"

Now she was sitting in the OR waiting room awaiting the return of the doctor who hurried to Logan into surgery.

How long has he been in surgery by now?

Barek remembered that she had looked at her watch, but she could not recall what time they arrived. Checking the time every so often did not help, as her mind did not process what she saw. Sick with worry she shifted her position restlessly.

In her pocket her cell phone vibrated. Barek pulled it out with shaking hands and flipped it open.

"Barek… Captain Deakins. Didn't you want to come here, too?... I see. You have his trace. Great. Hope you'll get the bastard… No, Cap. He's in surgery right now."

Alarm beeps alerted her and she stood up, stepping out of the waiting area. Another doctor dashed through the doors to the operating room. Two nurses followed.

"_What's up, Barek?" Deakins asked on the phone__ when she remained silent._

"I don't know, Cap," she said, "but something seems to be wrong."

"_Let me know as soon as he's out of surgery," Deakins demanded._

"Of course, sir. So you'll stay in the office?... Okay, I'll call you."

With hammering heart Barek stood, staring at the doors to the operating room where her partner was fighting for his life.

_Please, God, he has to make it!_ Barek prayed. _Don't take him from me! Please! His time hasn't come yet!_

Suddenly feeling her exhaustion she stumbled back to the seats in the waiting area and dropped into one of the plastic chairs, crying.

xXx

**near George Washington Bridge**

**Bronx**

"Can we have a look into the loading space, sir?" the uniformed officer asked and he politely agreed.

So the cop's partner walked slowly around the vehicle to the backdoor and pulled it open. There were crates with fruit and vegetables stacked inside. The officer shone with his flashlight over the piles before he closed the door again.

"Thank you, sir," the first cop said when he got the okay signal from his partner. "Drive carefully."

"I will," he said and steered the van out of the police block.

Accelerating he soon got a good distance between himself and the cops. A vicious grin crept on his face, then he laughed.

_How easy it is to fool them,_ he thought. _Just a wig, a false goatee and a new stolen car, and whoosh, you're out of it!_

Careful not to exceed the speed limit he drove through the night.

Soon he would play another game with Bobby.

Soon the detective would not remain as passive as he was the last time.

Soon he would break him.

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

**Manhattan**

"You found the truck?" Stabler gasped into his phone excitedly, but his enthusiasm died as fast as it was fueled by the news. "East 20 St…" His insides constricted painfully. That was too damned close to the scene of the abduction. Stabler knew what that meant, their target had a new car. "You did what?"

Attentively Stabler listened to what the cop had to tell him.

"Okay…" he said. "Munch, we're now searching for a grey metallic Honda Civic, also New York license, EJC-492."

"Seen where?" Munch wanted to know.

"East 20 St.," Stabler told him. He exchanged some more information with the officer before he finished the call. "They found the car deserted and realized that he must have taken another. So they checked for stolen car reports and went from store to store and apartment to apartment to find out if someone's car was stolen."

"I'm afraid that he'll change it again," Munch grumbled. "We have to find him fast."

"Who are you telling that, John," Stabler said.

"You know what I mean."

"Sure." Stabler stared at the Manhattan map. His forehead crumbled. "He's heading north. Road blocks are going to be set up here, here and here." He said, indicating the locations on the map. "We need to try and find him before he reaches them. As Munch said, it's possible that he'll change the car again. We'll have to prevent that."

"Right," Munch agreed, "but as we can't ask everybody from here to the Bronx to lock their cars away or sit guard with them he'll just have free choice of any kind of model."

"You're not funny."

"I didn't intend to be funny," Munch said. "You were."

Stabler glowered at him.

"Enough," Deakins cut in without raising his voice. "We all know what is at stake and what to do. So do it."

"Yes, sir," both Stabler and Munch mumbled and turned back to their respective tasks, Stabler getting on the phone and calling CSU to find out who would save evidence in the stolen SUV, making sure they understood how urgent it was.

xXx

**unknown location**

_Sick to the stomach would be an understatement_, Eames thought, when she woke up again. It was not only the after-effect of the sedative but also the steady movement of the car that caused her nausea.

She could not move. Because she was cuffed behind her back, she noticed. Her ankles also were tied up and she was gagged.

_Damn! What happened? I was just outside One Police Plaza_.

Her memories were sketchy at best. She remembered refusing Mike's offer to accompany her. Then she went out to catch some fresh air. She wanted to be back in about ten to fifteen minutes, but she never made it.

_Okay, stop thinking about what has happened_, she ordered herself. _Think about what will possibly happen from now on. Where is he taking me? Why is he taking me there? Which plan is he following?_

The car took a sharp curve and hobbled along a what… a field path? It drove upwards round several bends before it stopped.

She heard a door open and close, then another was pulled open and Kirkpatrick leaned in to grab her legs. He cut the bonds and pulled her out of the van. Then he shoved her down a path and through an almost plant hidden door into the hill.

_Where are we?_ she thought. _Must be far outside of New York_.

He pushed her through the room and to a stairwell. It was narrow and steep. She had problems to climb it with her bound hands even though he held her by her left upper arm. Down in the cellar Eames saw an enormous amount of equipment line one of the walls before he opened a massive steel door and pushed her through.

Her gag muffled her terrified scream to a soft, barely audible moan. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the bloody mess, that she could hardly recognize as her partner, lying on the concrete floor.

She could not see or hear if he was breathing. As far as she could tell he could also be dead.

Kirkpatrick pressed her against the wall with her back and wound a chain around her neck. Only then he opened her handcuffs just to close them again in front of her body. Now he attached the chain to the cuffs, too.

She watched him as he went over to her partner. _Bobby! What the hell did he do to you?_ She reached up and with some effort she could remove her gag. "Bobby!"

"You can yell as much as you like," Kirkpatrick said. "Except for us nobody will hear you."

"What have you done?"

"Isn't it quite obvious?" he asked, standing over the big detective with an insane proud smile.

Eames' heart pounded painfully in her chest. She lifted her arms again and rewound the chain from her neck. She was free to take four steps forward, then the chain stopped her.

Tears burned in her eyes. She could not stop them rolling down her cheeks. The sight of her highly treasured if not beloved partner shocked her to the core. As he lay on his stomach she could not see his face which was buried between the stretched arms. His wrists were shackled and locked to a ring in the floor. He was sore all over his back with marks of the beatings. And… there… She was not sure if she could still feel anything. She felt somewhat numb now due to so much grief that she could not even begin to express. There… there was so much blood all over his… hips and thighs.

Kirkpatrick put a foot under Goren's shoulder and pushed hard to turn him on his back. It made the detective groan, when his sore back touched the cold floor.

"Bobby!" she screamed out and broke down with sobs.

Kirkpatrick laughed viciously. He opened the padlock to release Goren's chains and pulled his arms up. Then he took hold of his shoulder and dragged him to his feet.

Just by the look of him, Eames would have said that he would not be able to stand up. But he was. Only slightly swaying Goren stood beside Kirkpatrick. With her look she closely examined his body and his injuries. There was sort of a cuff around his neck, a chain dangling over his chest. She met his dark brown eyes. In this instant she understood why the bastard had brought her here.

_If Bobby still has enough energy to stand on his own he also is able to fight, _she thought_. As long as he is willing to fight…_

And as much as she wished to be wrong, she knew by the blank expression on her partner's face that he was not.

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

**Manhattan**

Deakins strode out of his office and stopped in the middle of the bullpen, holding his hand up to bring Stabler to a halt for a moment. Everyone fell silent. They all looked expectantly at their captain. Deakins cleared his throat. When he was sure that he had everyone's attention he declared, "Logan's out of surgery and in ICU. He'll get monitored for the next two days, but the doctor was optimistic that he'll be alright."

Most of the detectives sighed a breath of relief while a few others made gestures to express the same. Stabler was distracted by yet another phone call.

"Okay, thanks," he said after a moment of listening. Then he turned to Deakins. "Some minor traces like candy wrappings or an adult magazine. Nothing that might lead us to him yet."

Thoughtfully Deakins nodded. Time was passing mercilessly and soon they could assume that the killer escaped from Manhattan.

With Eames.

"I bet they're already dead," someone mumbled.

Most of the present cops did not hear it, but Stabler did. He froze, halfway bent over the desk to reach for a file. Where did the sounds come from? He turned in the direction.

"Come again?" Stabler said.

A detective looked at him crestfallen, but then he seemed to decide to take his stand and straightened up, "Do you still believe that they're alive? Okay, Eames may be, but Goren?"

"I think I misheard that," Deakins said sternly.

"He's not dead!" Stabler exploded, towering over the detective. "Goren's giving his kidnapper a hard time, that's why he took Eames, too! To regain power over him! Goren's standing his ground, counting on us to find him! And you? What are you doing?! You… you…"

Stabler was so enraged that he could not properly express it. Munch stepped beside him and carefully took his left forearm.

"Leave it," Munch murmured. "It's enough."

"Yes, it's enough," Deakins agreed. "Bradley, you can go home."

"Sir?"

"You understood quite well. Get out of here before I forget myself."

Pointedly Bradley put his pen down and put two files on each other before he slowly rose from his chair. He glowered at Deakins, then he left the squad room.

"Get back to work!" Deakins ordered once Bradley was gone. "We have two detectives to find!"

xXx

**unknown location**

Yes, he heard the door. He heard the steps. He heard everything. But he did not care.

For a second he was sure he had heard her voice. Impossible. She was not here. And she would not find him.

He heard Kirkpatrick talk. It almost sounded as if he got an answer. But there was no one except for himself.

Kirkpatrick pressed his foot under his shoulder and pushed him around. Even the sharp pain that shot through his body could not provoke a reaction. He was too weary to even scream. The sound he made was more of a groan.

There it was again, the audible illusion. It was calling his name. Was it crying?

Once more Kirkpatrick pulled him to his feet. He did not want to know what this monster was up to. He just wanted him to be finished. Then he could glide back into black nothingness.

There it was. Matching the voice a figure crouched on the floor. The sparkling eyes that met his own were so vivid he almost believed the sight was real. He closed his eyes. It could not be real. This would mean…

His thoughts trailed off and his heart began to race. _No_, was all he could think about.

His eyes flew open wide when he realized that it was not an illusion. She met his view. As their stares locked he felt his spirit return.

Something touched his arm but he did not care… until he noticed that Kirkpatrick was about to chain him up again.

The explosion caught everyone by surprise, even himself. With a force he did not know he even had he hit Kirkpatrick across the face with the shackles. The man stumbled backwards and he was over him, hitting him hard two more times with his manacles. Then he grabbed his collar and pushed him back. Together they smashed into the wall.

Goren's agony was forgotten. All he could feel was rage. It was all consuming and the only thing that kept him going.

He wanted to see blood!

He wanted to kill!

His next blow was intercepted. Kirkpatrick hit his shoulder and he screamed out with pain. Nevertheless he managed to take hold of the arm and spun round to crash his opponent into the wall again. Kirkpatrick fell and he wrapped his chains around the man's neck and pulled.

Eames watched in horror… and awe. She desperately wanted to help her partner but she was chained to the wall, unable to participate in the fight.

Kirkpatrick reared in the tight clasp. He could not breathe. As it had helped him before he threw himself back. The pressure of the chain decreased. Once moving he walked backwards, shoving Goren with him until they hit the next wall.

This time it was Goren who hit it hard. But he did not let go as he knew for a fact that this might decide the fight to his and Eames' disadvantage. Kirkpatrick grabbed for him, so he tried to retreat without lessening the grip.

He felt a hand behind his neck. Kirkpatrick bowed forward and lifted him out. He was thrown over Kirkpatrick's shoulder and crashed to the ground almost head first. In the next instant Kirkpatrick was over him, both hands around his throat. His vision had already blurred when he landed another blow into Kirkpatrick's head that made the perp roll over to the side. Goren scrambled to his feet and pulled Kirkpatrick up. With his whole weight he drove him backwards. This time they hit the mechanism for the wheel under the ceiling. Kirkpatrick screamed out. The lever protruded from his upper arm.

Slowly Kirkpatrick raised his look to meet Goren's. He had made a possibly deadly mistake. He had underestimated the detective. He had underestimated his six foot four, his professional training, his strength of will… and his determination to protect his partner. Now that he saw the rage flash in the dark brown eyes he suspected that the detective's obedience had betrayed him, had made him believe what he wanted to believe, that he could break him.

Goren looked around in search for some kind of weapon.

He did not notice that Kirkpatrick clenched his teeth and leaned forward. The man cried out again as the lever slid out of his arm.

Before Goren became aware of it he was hit by the other man's body and stumbled backwards. This time he fell. Kirkpatrick lay on top of him and scrambled to his feet. He tried to get hold of an ankle to bring him down but missed it.

"Bobby!" Alex yelled. She was way too far out of reach. "Don't let him get away!"

But he was not able to get up again. He was powered out. There was nothing he could do when Kirkpatrick went to a heap of stuff and reached into a box to get a gun. He aimed at Goren and cocked the trigger. Blood soaked the left side of his shirt and anger burned in his eyes.

"I have to admit that I'm surprised," he said. "I expected that Alex's presence would revive you a bit but I didn't expect you to fight like that."

Slowly he advanced on Goren until he stood next to his right side. "At least you made this an interesting ride. I think I'll have to thank you… What I don't appreciate is this." He nodded to his injured arm. "This hurts."

"You're welcome," Goren said, ignoring the muzzle that aimed at his forehead.

Kirkpatrick's eyes narrowed. "For that I should shoot you… But you will certainly remember what I told you in the beginning, won't you? I said that I won't grant you a quick death. And I'm true to my word. So, I won't shoot you… at least not in the head."

With these words he lowered the gun and fired. Mixed with Goren's scream of pain the shot echoed through the cellar. The bullet went straight through his right thigh and broke the bone.

Eames' mouth stood wide open but she could not voice anything. She stared at her partner in shock before tears were rolling freely.

Kirkpatrick went to another case, took out some parts of Goren's destroyed clothes and went back to bandage him up provisionally.

"I hope this will curb your enthusiasm," he said. "If it doesn't, say so… and I'll put a bullet through your left thigh, too." He got up again. "You can think about it while I'll go have some fun."

"Have fun?" Eames said. "Can I meet you halfway?"

Both men looked at her incredulously.

"Yeah. I like strong men." She hoped that it sounded somewhat cheerful. "That's why I worked with him such a long time. But he isn't always the perfect gentleman." Slowly she opened the button of her trousers. Even more slowly she drew down the zipper while she spoke. "Now you defeated him. There can be only one. You win the prize." With that her pants slid down her legs.

xXx

**One Police Plaza**

**Major Case Squad**

**Manhattan**

"You said that he probably changed his car to a delivery van?" Tutuola wanted to know.

"Yeah," Stabler confirmed. "Why?"

"Patrolman at one of the police blocks at George Washington Bridge remembers such a van. If he's right our perv passed the control about an hour ago."

"What?!" Stabler exploded. "No!"

"Tell me that's a bad joke, partner," Munch growled.

"Sorry, man, but I wouldn't joke about something so serious."

"Shit!"

Munch expressed what everyone else was thinking. They lost the trace. Again.

"We can still find him," Stabler declared. "I don't accept it! I won't give up. I'll keep searching until I found Goren and Eames."

Deakins was surprised. After all the differences between Goren and Stabler he did not expect that determination. A professional resilience maybe, but not that personally driven motivation. The captain sensed that he should use that force and let him go.

"Stabler," he said. "Go and follow that lead on the van. I'll take over here."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Stabler. You and your partner, go and bring me that van."

"Yes, sir," Stabler confirmed the order. With Benson on his heals he headed out of the bullpen.

xXx

Goren could neither believe his eyes nor his ears. He felt betrayed. After all that had happened this was the worst.

Kirkpatrick on the other hand stared at her, fascinated. She slid out of her shoes and kicked the pants away.

"Why didn't you ask? Wasn't it worth the trial?" she asked. "Were you afraid to find a woman who can be a match for you?"

Kirkpatrick had experienced a lot since he had begun to play his games of terror and torment. But for the first time he met a girl who took the initiative like that. He knew all too well that she was a police officer. He knew she was tough. He knew that she would only accept a strong partner. He was strong. And that was the reason why he did not question her words.

And he did not kid himself. He also knew that she did that to save her partner's and her own life. Maybe she would even sacrifice herself to save him. Like Bobby would for her. He was curious to find that out.

"You have to know that I adored your work from the beginning. I had to feign disgust in front of my colleagues. But now I can understand you. You did it to impress me."

Kirkpatrick approached her. _She's good,_ he thought. _I wonder how far she'll go._ Eames reached up and cupped his cheeks with her hands.

"You'll have to help me with the top," she said, presenting the cuffs.

He liked the challenge, so he decided to play along. Ignoring his pain from his injury he picked another pair of handcuffs up and put one half around one of Eames wrists. The detective grabbed his neck and pulled him close. Forcing herself to ignore his blood she brushed her hands over his back. She looked over his shoulder. When her eyes met the incredulous stare of her partner she flinched. Kirkpatrick mistook it as shudder of passion. With both hands he took hold of her waist and sat her on his hips. His face burrowed between her breasts. He knelt down and gently laid her on the ground.

"Wait a moment," he said. He stepped back and put the gun away. _Don't tempt her. What could she do, that petite detective, witty and brave, but physically no match. I can easily subdue her._ Instead of the gun he picked up a knife. _My price. She's mine!_

Once again he knelt down over her. Enjoying himself he cautiously cut open her tank-top. Then he cut the strings of her bra and slip and pulled away the clothes.

Eames favored him with a broad smile. "It won't work with these," she said.

"I know. Don't be so impatient." He opened the short-chained cuffs.

She gently lay her hands on his shoulders and dragged him down. Kirkpatrick groaned. His injured arm hurt, but it was bearable.

He was heavier than Eames had expected. As if she was caressing him, but carefully searching, she rubbed circles on his back. He pressed his lips on hers and kissed her, searched entry with his tongue. It was all she could do not to throw up. There!

Slowly she got the keys out. She arched her back and put them there.

"You're a good kisser," she giggled. When he burrowed his head in the crook of her neck to nibble at her ear, she turned her head a bit and squinted to Goren. Her heart broke for him when she saw his eyes. She tried to lock stares with him and to shake her head without letting Kirkpatrick notice it.

With her left hand she drew him closer, while her right groped over the ground for the knife, but she could not find it.

Kirkpatrick's pants were down, too, and he searched for his prize. Eames choked when he claimed her. With each thrust he pressed her down on the concrete and the keys stabbed her back. He groaned and panted, his hot breath washing over her face.

Goren still could not believe what he saw with his own eyes. Now she wrapped her legs around his waist. She had to be out of her mind.

Eames held him in the embrace of her legs. Her body wound under his perverted lust. Now she could reach out farther. Suddenly her legs fell apart.

_Thud!_

Kirkpatrick froze. _That's… wrong, that's… not part of the game!_ Before he could react she pulled the knife out and stabbed him again.

"Bitch!" he yelled and slammed his fist in her face.

Unfortunately he was out of reach before she could cut his throat.

He picked up the gun and aimed at her. "You'll regret this! When I come back you'll regret this!" He turned off the lights and fled.

tbc…


	28. Chapter 27

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I'm so glad that you're sticking with me. I know, it's hard, but we've almost made it. Only two more cliffhangers... I swear! Thanks to _Bammi1_ for beta-reading. Enjoy!

**27**

**unknown location**

"And you, you big oaf, honestly believed I meant what I said?" Eames complained. As it was pitch black again, only the chains glowing yellowish, she could not see the remorseful look he gave her. "I give you credit for being badly hurt and exhausted. You don't apologize, I don't apologize… then I consider it even."

"You're a good actress. Will you tell me?"

"Why did I play this stupid… and disgusting… charade?"

He heard some chains clanking.

"Yeah."

"Guess."

"Alex!" He sounded annoyed. "I don't feel like guessing now, you know?"

"Thanks."

"What?"

"For calling me Alex for once."

He groaned. "I should have remembered that you were with Vice before joining Major Case. But it hurt so much."

"I know. I could see it in your eyes. I just thought I could eliminate him." She gasped. "It wasn't meant to go so far… I tried to stab his kidney. Damn. Why couldn't I kill him? I'll never get a second chance!"

"I did not like your technique… but I have to admit that it was courageous."

"It was stupid."

He waited a moment before he replied, sounding innocent, almost amused, despite the pain he was in. "Yes, it was stupid. We have something in common now."

Whatever she was doing, she paused. For some seconds she remained silent before she could not help her giggles. Again tears rose. They let her giggles tremble and change to sobs.

"Alex?" he asked. "You're okay?"

"What a stupid question is that, smart ass? I let him rape me. You don't think that's funny, do you? Damn, these chains really are creepy."

With some effort he suppressed a strangled laugh. "At least you have someone to talk to."

She could hear the telltale tremor in his voice. _I'm such an idiot, _she scolded herself_. Kirkpatrick barely touched me. Bobby on the other hand…_

Again the chains were rattling. He heard her move. The chains were clanking on the floor. Then the lights flickered on. She found the knife and was at his side seconds later.

"Well, something had to work out." She bowed over his leg and examined the bandage. When she touched it he grimaced.

"You stole his keys," he pressed through gritted teeth.

"Yeah. Unfortunately there's none for the damned door." She fumbled with the keys until she found the ones that opened his chains. "There's none for the collar. Sorry."

"Doesn't… matter. You're free… we still have a chance."

It was so hard for him to talk at all. He had to be in incredible pain and there was nothing she could do. What made everything worse was his concern about her she saw reflected in his dark eyes and she cursed herself. "Oh, Bobby, I'm so sorry. I really am stupid. You endured so much… and I feel sorry for myself."

"You're scared. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" she reprimanded herself. "And you, Bobby, don't be so understanding. It annoys the hell out of me."

She could not believe that he truly grinned at her that boyish grin she knew all-so-well… and loved so much. "What in the third hell is so funny?"

"I… missed… that banter."

She was taken aback. "That's what's worrying you right now?"

"Whole time." His look turned more seriously. "The night goggles?"

"What?"

"Are… the night goggles here?" It became increasingly difficult for him to talk. "You could… wear them… surprise him."

"I would have to turn the lights off."

"No problem." He saw her flinch. "Hey, partner. I don't have… problems with darkness. The darkness never was an enemy. It was the chains…"

"That you could not move." _He must have felt like the proverbial tiger in the cage_, she thought. _And worse._

"Okay, I'll get those goggles."

Eames got up and went to the corner where Kirkpatrick kept his supplies. There lay the night glasses. She picked them up and went to turn off the lights. Once again she looked around at the menacingly glowing irons, before she put on the goggles. She gasped. The chains glowed even stronger. But she could see the rest, too. She returned to her partner.

"Are you satisfied now?"

"I… wouldn't chose these words..."

There was nothing she could do, she had to grin. The moment he had gotten up and she saw his eyes she had been terrified. It occurred to her that he should have been broken. She did not fool herself: He was badly hurt, both, physically and mentally. But at least Kirkpatrick did not succeed in breaking his mind.

"I need it, you know? You, calling me names. I wished the whole time I could hear your voice, but I feared it as well."

"I don't understand." She also did not understand why he would make such an effort to tell her _that_, but then a lot about Bobby was hard to understand.

"To actually hear it… would… have meant that you're… trapped here, too."

"Or that I've found you."

"Without proper leads?" He sighed. Taking a few hard breaths he prepared to speak. "He often told me that you… were the reason he'd taken me. My loyalty attracted him."

"Did he blackmail you? Emotionally, I mean."

He did not answer at once. She saw him frown, then grimace. Was it the pain or did he remember something bad? She wondered if he would say anything.

"Kind of, yeah," he finally admitted.

There was the tremor in his voice again. She had the feeling that he did not want to tell her but felt obliged to do it. That he fought so hard just to speak with her was impressive, but she rather wished that he would save his strength. She reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder to assure him of her presence. She had barely brushed it with her fingertips when he gasped.

"Bobby?"

His breaths came in quick succession, his features were distorted with downright panic. She jerked back her hand at once.

"Bobby, I didn't want to scare you. Bobby?" There was no way for her to tell if he could hear or rather understand her. She did not dare to touch him again but did not know what to do instead. "Bobby? It's me, Alex!"

She stared at him with deep concern. In her stomach a knot tightened. What could she do? An idea occurred to her.

"Bobby? Can you hear me, Bobby?"

Painfully slow he seemed to come back to reality.

"Bobby? Will you tell me about the Cheshire Cat?"

"T-the… Cheshire…Cat?"

Eames let out her breath. She did not even know she had been holding it. His attention was focused on her again.

"Yes. I mean this special Cat we've met in Greenwich."

"Alice?"

"Yes."

"What do ya… wanna know?"

"Start with when you've met her… and stop when you run out of ideas."

"We met at her bookshop. There was a reading. I… stayed to get a signed copy of the book." He had to pause. Eames did not mind. She reached what she wanted. He was focused again. It was more than okay that he chose his own pace.

"While waiting for the author we got caught in a conversation about his book, but she had to take care of the guests, so I stayed until everyone else was gone, helped her to move the shelves back in place and so on."

He fell silent as he fought against a wave of pain. Everything hurt, even if he did not talk or even breathe. Looking away from Eames he closed his eyes, knowing that time was ticking.

"So, what are you two?"

"Who? Alice and me?" He coughed. "We're friends."

"And how did you get that nickname? Mad Hatter?"

A crooked smile quirked his lips. "Just my usual rambling, interpreted by a book seller."

"I see. Exactly what I searched a term for." She smirked. "May I call you…"

"No!" he interrupted, before she could finish her question. "No, you may not."

"Bummer." Now she chuckled. "Imagine the blast Mike would have with that."

"If he can live with being the White Rabbit from then on…"

Eames's insides constricted painfully. Even in their bleak situation he joked with her. Tears shot into her eyes. Obviously he sensed that her mood changed.

"What?"

"Nothing, Bobby," she said. "Just… being stuck here…"

"I know," he whispered and searched for her hand. When he found it he took it and squeezed as strongly as he possibly could which was not especially hard. He rather sensed her sob than heard it. Everything inside of him screamed for comforting and reassuring her, but he did not know how anymore.

xXx

**Manhattan**

Heading north on Madison Avenue Stabler and Benson drove in silence. They listened to the radio, following every report about the stolen cars, knowing that the killer had managed to escape Manhattan. Every officer in city and state of New York was looking for the last reported van. Still, they were back to the search for the needle in the haystack.

Glancing at her partner Benson noticed how hard he grabbed the steering wheel. His knuckles shone white from his grip. Before she could say anything the ringing of Stabler's cell phone disturbed the uncomfortable silence. Stabler fished it out of his jacket and plucked it into the hands-free kit before he answered.

"We found the car the suspect exchanged for the van," Deakins' voice came out of the speaker. "A CSU team is on its way over. Meet them in West 131st Street."

"Okay, we're on our way," Benson confirmed.

Once more her gaze drifted from the street ahead to her partner. He still looked anxious.

"Elliot?"

"Liv."

"Talk with me."

"What about?"

Benson frowned. He knew quite well what she wanted him to talk about. All his brooding could be pretty annoying.

"Tell me why you're short of exploding," Benson prodded.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

This time he did not answer at once.

"You know, that reminds me of _Annie Get Your Gun_."

"What?"

"You know, their song-duel." A pained grin split his face as he reminded her by singing, "Anything you can do, I can do better. I can do anything better than you. _No, you can't._ Yes, I can. _No, you can't._"

Benson's insides constricted painfully. _Now what's that? Release of the stress?_

"I can't just accept that we lost them," it suddenly broke out of Stabler. "That guy made me so furious. What was he thinking?"

"Detective Bradley?"

"Yeah."

"He's an ass. Forget him."

"Can't," he grumbled. "Each time I try to imagine what Cockrill might do, what Alex is going through right now, and Bobby… I hear his words and the coldness with which he spoke… I feel the fear that he might be right, that we're too late. Even if we find them… they might be dead…"

"Elliot…"

"No, Liv," he panted. "I try to think positive, but it's getting harder and harder. That guy escalates. He doesn't follow any routine anymore…"

Desperation was audible in his voice and he grabbed the wheel harder. His mouth was dry and his throat tight as he tried to chase the unwelcome visions away that spooked through his mind. He had to concentrate on their task.

When he turned left into W 131st Street he slowed a bit down and soon spotted the car of the forensics. He stopped their Crown Victoria four cars behind. Both detectives got out and crossed the street to join Bonasera and Messer who already examined the car.

"Found something?" Benson asked.

"Not yet," Messer replied. "Wanna wait and watch?"

The two scientists liked to work under pressure, but this case was hard, even for them. They worked as fast and thoroughly as they possibly could, while the cops and detectives started searching for witnesses.

xXx

**unknown location**

Eames had no idea how much time had passed since Kirkpatrick left, but it felt like eternity. If she knew more about chemistry she could have estimated the time by how long the paint on the chains glowed until their shine faded away.

Now both detectives sat in complete darkness because Goren insisted on keeping the lights switched off. They could not risk their surprise effect when Kirkpatrick returned.

_If_ he returned.

_Is it still night or day already? Or is it even noon? Even later?_ Mentally she slapped herself to stop thinking herself into a panic.

In their initial getting back together, she assessing as well as she could his injuries and then dealing with their situation, they had hardly a chance to notice their nudity, but as she sat beside him, holding his hand, she slowly became conscious of the fact that they both were naked. It was awkward.

_The first time we'd do that I imagined to be kind of different,_ she thought ruefully. _Ever since I noticed that the way I look at him had changed I wondered what he would look like unclothed and how that would change his demeanor. I didn't have all that blood and cuts and bruises in mind._

"He… won't… come back," Goren whispered, startling her out of her musings

"What are you talking about, Bobby? He certainly will come back." Eames refused to think otherwise.

"No. The… stab wound. Too much blood…"

"Bobby! Quit talking like this!" she scolded. "He _will_ come back."_ He must_.

"Won't."

Eames could not deny that. There was no way to tell how long Kirkpatrick was gone now, but she knew that it was too long ago that he left. She did not want to draw the only possible conclusion.

"The others could have arrested him. They're going to find out where he left us and they will get us out."

"And if he… bled to death?"

"Please don't talk like that."

"Need to… if you don't…"

"Bobby…!"

"He's dead." His voice faltered. He hated to be the one thinking logical now. When he looked into her face he saw her panic. The idea of Kirkpatrick, dead, scared her to death. In case he was not found… or if he was found, but there were no clues, where to find them… or they found him alive and he refused to talk…

Simple but severe facts: If he was dead, he could not come back and he could tell nobody where to find them. They had no key for the heavy steel door. They were trapped.

"Bobby. They will find us. They are good cops… Barek, Logan and the SVUs. They are good. And they won't quit on us."

"Yeah, they won't." He chuckled weakly. "I still… owe Stabler the money."

_Oh, God, Bobby. Don't make such jokes_. Her throat was corded up. She almost sobbed.

"Why…?" He gasped in a heavy breath. "Why… haven't you… told me?"

"Told you what?" She was puzzled.

"Your… letter to Deakins."

Her heart dropped into her stomach. _He does not mean what I dread he means, does he? That's impossible. How could he know that? I never…_

"Kirkpatrick showed me a letter… you asked for… another partner. Why… haven't you… told me?"

Eames swallowed. She had to field this question. She owed it to him. But she could not do it like that. She had to face him.

Goren heard her get up and a moment later a few lights flicked on. Quickly she returned to his side.

"Oh, Bobby, I'm so sorry… I… just couldn't tell you."

"What? Why should you…?" he stammered. "I mean… I thought… thought we'd be close. We'd be friends. What kind of…" His voice trailed off and changed to coughs. "What kind of friend am I when you can't trust me enough to tell me?"

Eames was thunderstruck! _He is blaming himself!_ This made her sob. Tears shot into her eyes and her gasps for breath became cries.

"Oh, Bobby! No! That's not why I have not told you about it." With both hands she cupped his cheeks. His beard tickled her palms. "I was scared," she confessed. "I was scared that I would hurt you. I don't want to hurt you, ever!" she sobbed.

"Alex," he breathed. "That's… water under the bridge." Weakly he raised his hand, trying to touch her cheek in return, but he could not reach her. So his hand came to rest on her forearm. "You stayed. That… counts. How can you think… I… would care about a… five year old letter?"

His words soothed her hurting soul, yet, his eyes held something else. Hurt.

"I hurt you. This letter hurt you and I hurt you, too."

"He has messed with my mind. There have been moments I did believe him. I also believed that you would leave me. This letter… Back then… our start was so rocky." He coughed again. Despite that he seemed to do better now or maybe it was just his desire to get that matter sorted that gave him the strength to keep talking. "I knew you were not happy. I also knew that it could happen any moment, that you decided to go away. I did not know how to prevent it. I wanted you so desperately to stay. For the first time I really thought that a partnership might work and I did not want to spoil it. I just could not find a way to tell you…"

"But, Bobby, you have told me," she tried to calm him. His breaths were erratic now and she knew that this was not good for him. "It was very… long-winded, but finally I understood. I understood you and that's why I withdrew the letter. I won't leave you, Bobby. I can't leave you…" Her voice trailed off. She was not prepared to tell him the truth.

"Yeah, you can't leave, cause the damned door is locked."

He said this in such a serious tone that she just could stare at him. Usually she was responsible for the wisecracks.

"Bobby…"

"I know that, Alex. We've been working together for so long now. I'm so grateful for these years. Sometimes, when I really felt bad, you were the only reason to get up and go to work. You saved my life more than once… and I don't mean the job."

His voice became choked. Tears welled in his eyes. To hear and see this made her choke, too.

"That only made it worse, Alex," he continued. "I thought I knew you so well. I can't understand why you were not able to tell me about this letter. Am I so terrible that you did not trust me to see the truth? That you did not trust me to be able to handle that?"

"Oh, Bobby… no…" she whispered. He was actually crying. She was at a loss for words if not actions. Again she took his face in both her hands and bowed down to gently kiss him.

He jerked his head away from her so violently that she backed off. _What have I done wrong now?_ Her heart ached. _Bobby! What have I done wrong!?_

_No!_ he thought. _No, not that! You can't do that! Don't try to kiss me! Not like that!_

There was no way he could avoid her. He felt so weak and could hardly move an inch. So he could not do anything but to give in to her when she lightly grabbed his chin to turn his face back to her. She did not move down, though. She just looked at him. The tender touch of her fingertips made him shiver. _Her eyes are so beautiful. How they are sparkling, even now._

"Bobby," she breathed. The words did not want to come out, her throat was corded up. Why did this have to be so difficult? "I love you," she finally choked.

_No!_ He did not want to believe her. _How can she tell me _now_ that she loves me? I can never…_

"Bobby?"

She sounded desperate. She demanded an answer, any kind of reaction.

_I can't tell her, _he thought_. I just can't. She has lost her husband. I can't do this to her now!_

"Don't do this," he murmured.

"Do what?"

"Don't confess your love for me. Do you think that would make me feel better?"

Eames was taken aback.

"And do you think I'm just saying that to make you feel better?" she snapped. "If you really think that then you don't know me half as well as I thought you did. Look at me, Bobby."

With slight difficulties he focused on his partner.

"I should have told you much earlier, Bobby. I love you."

_She's serious. That's not good. No, I can't. I shouldn't dare! Not now!_

"I'm… flattered," he whispered.

"Flattered?" A cold fist clenched her insides. "That's it? What about you, Bobby? Tell me. Come on."

"You… mean the… world to me, Alex," he said, fighting to smile at her.

_He's smiling at me! That sweet smile he always seems to reserve just for me!_

"You can say… that… I love you, just… not like that."

Her heart sank. She had so hoped for him to return her feelings. When she had comforted him, back at the station, when he had been so desperate to have read the signs wrong, it had seemed as if he did. But he did not. Tears lurked behind her eyelids.

Caressing her hand with his thumb reassuringly Goren laid back and closed his eyes. He was not proud of how easily the lie came over his lips, but it was the best he could do for her now. He knew his chances were slim. He did not want to break her heart by confessing his love just to die on her in that cellar.

xXx

The usual, seemingly endless flow of reports came over the radio, but so far no further trace of the van was among the messages. The Locust just vanished. Again.

Stabler was frustrated accordingly. He retreated from the car and the other officers and Benson suspected that it was better that way. Whenever her partner got frustrated he got angry and his anger boiled for a long time inside of him before it broke out like a volcano. She knew how to read the signs and kept her distance, allowing him space to cool his temper.

At the same time she felt the anger build up inside of her, too. The situation was nothing but frustrating and so she could blame no one who would explode from the stress. Her cell phone rang and Benson answered it. Captain Deakins was on the other end of the line.

"Benson!" Deakins said. This one word already sounded excited. "You and Stabler! Get to St Clares Riverside Med Ctr, 190 Munsonhurst Rd in Franklin, New Jersey. They say that they have a patient who might be the guy we're searching for."

"What?!" Frantically Benson fumbled for her notepad. "What happened?"

"A car accident. That's all I know. Go and find it out!"

"Okay, sir. Can you repeat the address please?" She scribbled it down and finished the call.

"Now what was that?" Stabler wanted to know.

"A lead. The Locust probably is at hospital after an accident."

"What about Alex?"

"Deakins didn't say anything about her. I guess she was not involved in the accident."

"Shit," Stabler grumbled and started for their car. "I mean, that we still don't have a trace of her. It's good that she was not in the accident, though."

"I know what you meant, El. Don't worry."

_Don't worry?_ Stabler thought._ What an understatement! Sure I'm worried._

Benson followed him to their Crown Victoria and off they went.

Passing Paterson they then took the State Route 23 that led them directly to Franklin. When they reached the hospital there, about an hour's drive outside of New York, the staff nurse showed them their way to the man who might be their prime suspect. They had to stop outside his room and could only look inside through a window. He was hooked up to life supporting machinery.

_Shit!_ Stabler thought as he looked at the unconscious man thoughtfully. He could not recognize him due to his injuries. _It may be him, but what if he's not?_

"What kind of accident was it?" Benson asked.

"Am I looking like a police officer? I just know that he was badly injured, went to surgery and has just a slight hope of recovery. For further information you should ask his surgeon, Dr. Meredith Harding."

"Well, where will we find Dr. Harding?"

"Either in OR or his office."

"Can you check this for us, please?" Stabler smiled his winning smile at her even if he did not feel like smiling at all.

She rose her eyebrows, but turned on her heels and headed for the next phone. A few minutes later a man in his forties, wearing white doctor's clothes, approached the two detectives.

"You're the officers who wanted to talk with me?"

"Yes," Benson confirmed. "We'd like to know more about the injuries this man sustained. We learned it was a car crash?"

"Yes, that's right. But he was also stabbed."

"Stabbed?"

"Yes. His attacker missed the kidney closely. Nevertheless the blood loss made him weak and sleepy which is what most likely led to the accident. It was pure luck that he was found in time and that a helicopter was close by when the call came in. Otherwise he wouldn't have survived."

"How do you prognosticate his condition?" Stabler asked.

"He's stable now. But there's no way to tell if or when he'll awaken from the coma."

_Shit,_ both detectives thought. There was their one hot trace and it cooled down rapidly.

tbc…


	29. Chapter 28

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I love you! :D And I LOVE my cliffhangers. LOL I'm **so** sorry for the long wait, though. My muse obviously needed the break. I hope that she'll be more cooperative now. Thanks to _Bammi1_ for beta-reading. Enjoy!

**28**

As worried as Deakins was for Goren and Eames, he could not forget about jurisdictions. The locals might take offence if he did not respect their territory. So he had been on the phone with the local police at Franklin and cleared the way for his detectives.

In tow of the worker who looked after the premise, detectives Benson and Stabler crossed the scrap yard. There was the jeep they were searching for. Its remains lay in the confines of a separated court, where cars were kept that still had to be examined, by insurance experts for example.

Together with Benson and Stabler came the CSU's detectives Bonasera and Messer.

"Okay, here it is," the worker said. "Help yourselves."

"Thanks," Stabler growled.

"You still need me?" the worker asked. "Or can I go back to the office?"

His _office_ was a small hut at the entrance to the scrap yard… and looked like scrap, too. But he was uncomfortable with the detectives and wanted to get away from them.

Bonasera smirked. "We will call you." She already had gloves on and tried to open the trunk. It was a bit difficult because it was stuck and Messer helped her.

"Damn. That thing looks as if it has already been inside the press," Stabler muttered under his breath. He also slipped on a pair of gloves and had a hard fight with the driver's door before it opened.

"Okay, we have a license to this car. Fin and John are checking everything that's connected with it. We will have a look at this." Benson dove inside through the passenger door.

The insides were a total mess as well as the whole body of the jeep. There were also traces of the foam used by the firemen to extinguish the flames.

Messer carefully examined the contents of the trunk. "This is a laptop-case." He picked it up and opened the zipper. "Here we have a computer. We should test it as soon as possible to see if it works."

Carefully he rummaged through all parts of the bag. "All the cables are here. I could try at the yard's office…"

"Okay, Danny," Bonasera confirmed and he left.

"There is nothing here that could help us," Benson said, looking into the glove compartment.

"I can't find anything here, either," Stabler added. "Is something else in the trunk?"

"Some DVDs," Bonasera replied. She opened one of the boxes. "Self-recorded. Everything else has been destroyed. Let's see if Danny could find something on the hard drive."

The three detectives went to the hut where Messer occupied the desk.

"Find something?" the forensic expert asked his partner.

Stella laid down the discs beside the laptop.

"Good." He inserted a DVD and started the drive. It was the grainy image of some kind of cellar where a woman with long black hair was tied to the wall with ropes.

"Holy shit," the scrap yard worker swore.

"We can watch this later," Messer thought aloud and stopped the film. He continued to click through the different folders on the hard drive. Then he stopped. "Let's try this…" he said and double-clicked.

Once more the detectives saw the cellar but this time they knew all-too-well the person who was trapped in there.

With mixed emotions they stared at their fellow detective who was tied to the floor with shackles and chains, resembling a starfish.

"We have to find them," Benson murmured. "We must… but we're running out of time."

"There was no clue inside of the car," Stabler breathed almost desperately. "How shall we find them? The doc said this guy's been in a coma since he was found. That doesn't seem to be that long, but we're not locked up in a cellar! We don't know where Eames and Goren are and if they are injured. Are they together or separated? Do they have water? If they have none, time's ticking away even faster…!"

He had begun to pace up and down the hut. Benson stopped him, standing right in front of him and laying her hands on his shoulders.

"The perp was stabbed," she said. "So at least one of them fought with him. They are alive and they're counting on us. We will find a way to get to them. We will."

Her determination triggered the smallest of smiles. "We will," Stabler repeated quietly, tears in his pained eyes.

"Yes," Bonasera confirmed, too. "And as seriously as the wounds were described I would go so far to assume that it was Goren who put up the fight."

Everyone stared at her, even Messer.

"Simple science," she said. "Something pierced his shoulder from behind and went right through to the other side… Do you think that Eames could have such an impact?"

"He could have fallen into something," Messer said and earned a furious look from his partner. "But I guess you're right," he added cautiously. "It might be a hint that he fought with Goren. We should take samples from the sediments in the tires now to check where he might have been with this car."

"Yeah," Bonasera smiled slightly. "This will help us to reduce the radius we have to search. We should look for everything around this town that might have similarities with an isolated cellar… mines, pits, old mansions."

"You think he will have had his hideout somewhere here?" Benson asked.

Bonasera nodded distinctly. "Yes. Didn't you say that the doctor told you that the blood loss led to his unconsciousness which caused the accident? Well, he can't have driven very far with a wound like that."

"And that won't be too far from where he had the crash," Messer added. "Estimating the distance he might have covered I'd say that his hideout is somewhere in a radius of ten to fifteen miles. We should get to the site and see what the place can tell us."

xXx

**unknown location**

Time was passing mercilessly.

Eames noticed it even more as her stomach started to growl. In the silence of the cellar it sounded even louder. God, she was hungry!

Lovingly she looked down at her sleeping partner. Actually she was surprised that his insides did not rumble along with hers. He had to be ravenously hungry.

Abandoning his hand Eames got up and went to the corner where Cockrill kept his supplies, but she did not need long to notice that there was nothing edible in the cartons.

"Damnit," she hissed.

Letting her gaze roam through the room she found something else, the hose.

"Water."

She went over to pick it up and opened the tap a little. The water was clear and cold. Eames drank it out of her cupped hand. _Bobby needs water, too,_ she thought. The hose was long enough to reach to where her partner was resting on the mattress. When she sat back down beside him she brushed one of his curls off his forehead.

"Whoa! Bobby! You're hot!"

Realizing that it probably was not the best idea to let him sleep she tried to wake him up. Groaning he opened his eyes. It took a while until he could focus on her.

While Goren fought for his consciousness Eames wet a cloth she found and placed it on his forehead.

_I have to get down that fever,_ she thought, her heart beating frantically. _God! We need help. There's not much I can do. If we're not found soon…_

She could not finish that thought.

It corded up her throat. In her stomach lay a lump of lead.

"Eames," Goren groaned as he sensed her hand behind his head.

"I'm here," his partner reassured him. "Bobby, you need to drink a little water. Here."

Having no other choice but to hold the hose close to his lips she opened the tap very carefully so that only a trickle came out. She saw the water run into his mouth and stopped the flow at once, afraid that he might choke on it.

With relief she watched how he swallowed. Repeating the procedure a few times soothed Goren's thirst.

"Thanks, Eames… enough."

"We have to get out of here somehow!" she groaned.

"I'm open for suggestions."

"I tried every key on the ring. Not one of them fits."

Restlessly she got up, returned to the boxes, and skimmed through the content. Nothing useful. Eames had hoped for something she could pick the lock with, but there was nothing.

"Oooooaaaaah!"

In a moment of rage she took a box and threw it against the wall were it shattered.

"Feeling better now?"

"Yeah, Bobby, thanks for asking," she snarled.

He frowned.

"No! I don't feel better!" Eames ranted, shaking her fists. "We're still stuck in here!"

"I wish I could help you," he mumbled, turning his head away from her. Goren could not stand looking at her. He had been so stupid to let himself be caught and now she was trapped, too, and just because of him. _It was my fault. She wouldn't be here if I'd have been a better cop, a better friend…_

"Oh, Bobby!" Eames moaned, coming over and sitting beside him on the mattress. "Don't do _that_ again. It's not your fault that he abducted me."

"Yes, it is."

"How is it your fault, hm? Tell me, Bobby. What did you do wrong that led to me getting abducted?"

"I made… a mistake, misjudged him."

"And…?"

"I… should've protected you. Stupid me… got in his trap myself. I…"

"I'm not made of sugar, Bobby. I'm your partner. I can protect myself. Plus, you're not responsible for everything. We have colleagues. They worked on the case, too."

"But…"

"Ah aaah," she admonished him. "Stop it."

He opened his lips to say something, but she silenced him by putting her index finger across them.

"Bobby Goren. Stop thinking yourself into a fit. There was nothing you could do. I might have been in your place if you'd have acted differently. Or another woman you know would have died, probably Darcy Stanton."

His eyes went wide.

"We talked with her. She's safe."

"Protective custody?"

Eames nodded.

"Thank God…" He closed his eyes. His breaths came and went with an effort. "We… were a couple."

"Yeah, she told us about it. You were engaged?"

"Yeah."

"May I ask why…?"

"Why we broke up?" A small smile crept on his features. "Circumstances." Seeing her rising eyebrow he added, "I know it sounds stupid or like an excuse, but life never was gentle with me and Darcy and I drifted apart."

"I see."

"Need… sleep," he murmured and closed his eyes.

Fear grabbed at Eames's heart. She was scared that he would not wake up again once he fell asleep. Prodding his side she tried to wake him, but he did not react.

Swallowing her fear Eames stretched out beside him, laying her head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

xXx

**Franklin**

**New Jersey**

At the city hall Benson and Stabler were looking for registrations of premises outside the town. They got a map and marked everything they could find. When they were finished they had only a short wait for the arrival of Munch and Tutuola. Cragen and Deakins joined them as well as two more MCS detectives.

"Where are our forensics?" Deakins wanted to know.

"Doing their job out on the road where the perp had his crash," Stabler replied. "Bonasera told us they could probably estimate the radius the hideaway might be in."

"Shall we get there?" Cragen asked.

"I think so, yes," Benson said.

So they all got in their cars and drove out of town to the scene of the car accident. When they arrived Bonasera and Messer stood next to their car, bowed over the hood with a pad and a map, scribbling, calculating.

"Okay, guys. What have you got?"

"At first a general direction," Bonasera answered, pointing down the road. "He was on his way into town when he crashed. We know by witnesses and tire traces. There are further traces in the grass. Then he collided with this tree."

"Didn't take much effort," Messer quipped. "There are enough trees he could hit."

"Yeah, that's what forests are like… lots of trees."

Someone chuckled.

Deakins's scowl around the group made them fall silent. The situation was too serious to make jokes.

"What's in this direction?" the captain asked.

"Beaver Lake, Stockholm, Lake Stockholm…" Munch mused. "Not much, actually."

"When Goren escaped he said something about wide grassland," Benson threw in. "First he ran through undergrowth, then on grass."

"How's that supposed to help in the middle of the forest?" her partner grumbled.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Which estates that you found registered are in the radius Messer has mentioned?" Deakins wanted to know.

"We have the map here," Benson said and retrieved it from their car to spread it over the map the forensics had used.

"This is the area where he most likely came from," Bonasera said and drew a circle on Benson's map.

"Then we shouldn't waste time," Cragen said. "Let's search them."

Each of them scribbled down addresses and they climbed in their respective cars while the forensic scientists stayed at the scene.

xXx

Inwardly Eames cursed. She did not want to show any insecurity in front of her partner. But Eames was not kidding herself. Of course she knew that she could not fool Goren. He knew that she was scared because he was scared.

Eames hated it.

_How long has the killer been gone now?_ she wondered. _With every passing minute it's getting less likely that he'll come back._

Absently she stroke Goren's shoulder. It had become an automatic movement but the care and emotion behind it were anything but. She loved him.

_That he rejects my love now is so typical of Bobby. He always thinks everything is his fault. He takes the blame for everything, going so far as to deny himself subconsciously any luck and happiness._

Eames did not know much about her partner's private life and the little that she knew painted the picture of an abused and lonely child, a lost young man and a disillusioned adult. Despite everything he had accomplished, the crimes he solved, the people he arrested, the people he saved, he had moments when serious self doubts troubled him. She wished so much that she could help him, but he did not let her get close enough to do that.

_We have to get out of here!_

Her heart beat faster with the thought.

_Don't panic, Eames,_ she ordered herself. _It won't help if you panic. What options do you have?_

She looked toward the door. Locked.

She looked around the room. No other possible exit.

The ventilation shaft was way too high in the wall to even reach it. Even Goren would not be able to reach it. Maybe if she stood on his shoulders…

_But he's too weak to stand up, let alone carry me._

A sob escaped her.

_We have no food! Only water! Okay, it comes out of a hose, so it will supply us for days or even longer…_

_But Bobby won't make it that long. He is wounded, he has a fever. There's not much I can do. How much longer can he last without proper treatment?_

Eames was lost in these thoughts when she heard Goren moan.

"Hey, I'm here, Bobby," she said and put her hand on his forehead. It was cold. She frowned. Why was it cold? Did the fever wear off?

"Alex?"

"I'm right here." She looked at him. His eyes were clouded with fever but he sounded stronger. Nevertheless, fear grabbed for her heart.

"Promise me something?" he asked, a demanding edge to his voice.

"What do you want me to promise?"

His view brightened slightly.

"That you will accept a new partner."

Her frown deepened. "What do you mean? Don't tell me you want to quit…"

His tormented laugh gave her the creeps.

"You still have a chance to get out of here," he said. "And I know damn well how stubborn you can be. I don't want you to be alone on the streets without backup. So promise me."

"How dare you ask me something like that!" Tears welled up in her eyes. It hurt so much, even more as she clearly heard his concern for her in his voice. She gulped down every other sharp remark. "I promise."

"Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me. I'll do anything for you, partner."

"I have to thank you. More than I can say. For everything."

"Don't talk so stupid. If you didn't already hurt so much, I'd hit you."

His eyes testified to more than physical pain. "Be serious, for once, okay."

"Bobby, you scare me."

"I have stopped being scared."

Her heart skipped a beat and then another when she heard this. Now she was terrified. He closed his eyes.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?" Once more he looked at her, but she could see that it cost him most of his strength.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?"

"Yeah. Once. One of our discussions here." He smiled at her that rare smile that also reached his eyes and that he reserved just for her, as she knew well enough. He could not resist any longer. He could not… he just had to tell her.

"I love you, too."

Her heart skipped a beat. She knew he had been lying! She had seen it in his eyes! She leaned forward to kiss him gently on the forehead. When she got up again she watched him with tears blurring her eyes.

_He looks peaceful_, she thought.

In the same second she realized that he was not breathing.

"Bobby?" she asked, panic clearly audible in her voice.

She grabbed for the side of his throat to feel the pulse. But there was none.

"Bobby?!" Now her voice broke. "Noooo!"

tbc…


	30. Chapter 29

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I knew you'd love that cliffhanger. :D That's why I had the following chapter as good as finished before I posted it. ;) So here you go. Enjoy.

Special thanks to _Bammi1_ for beta-reading.

**29**

Benson and Stabler stood in front of a snack stand, tiredly sipping coffee and nibbling at hotdogs. Over their meal they studied the map that was spread over the hood of their car, most of the possible premises crossed with a text-marker.

Every so often their radio crackled with reports.

"You two looking for something special, officers?" the vendor asked.

Stabler looked up slowly. "As a matter of fact, yes. Something with a large cellar."

"A cellar?"

"Yeah, like mines or old houses," Benson explained.

"Mines and old houses?" the already graying brunette said. She leaned in over the map and examined it, too. "You missed a spot," she declared. "It's not in the radius you drew, but not much further."

Now both detectives stared at her, electrified.

"What do you mean?" Benson was alerted.

"There is a mansion," the vendor pointed out. "Used to be a winery, more for a hobby than for a living. Belongs to the Coulter family."

This name was unfamiliar. Stabler took Kirkpatrick's photo out of the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Have you ever seen him?"

The woman just glanced at it. "Yeah… I'm not a hundred percent certain, but I think that I saw him with old Mrs. Coulter several months ago. She's the last one to live there. Children and grandchildren moved to Georgia and Florida. She lives in a…" Her voice trailed off as the two detectives pivoted on their heels, threw some bills on the snack stand's counter and rushed to get in their car.

Now Benson clung to the handle over the passenger door and the dashboard as Stabler chased the car up the field-path that it jumped and bounced.

"Your family will starve when your pay-checks will be wasted for a new car," Benson breathed. "The guy's in hospital, in a coma. Why don't you drive a bit slower?"

Stabler did not answer. He had the terrible feeling it was way too late… that this might be their last chance and he did not want to spoil it. Grimly he stared through the windshield and jammed the pedal down to the floor.

They had radioed their colleagues as soon as the waitress named the mansion but the other teams were too far away to catch up with them. In the distance they could hear a chopper. Maybe the medics they had requested.

"Elliot!" Benson yelled as he barely avoided a bigger pot-hole that would have ruined the axle.

The car skidded from the left to the right and back and then round a narrow curve into the woods. Half a mile ahead lay the mansion. The yard was empty and the only tire-tracks they could see left the court on the other side to continue up the hill.

Stabler accelerated and once again the engine roared. Up they went over far stretched serpentines between terraces that once had been the vineyards. They approached another house, smaller than the mansion and ducked beneath large oaks.

"The van!" Benson was out of the car as soon as it stopped, Stabler at her side just seconds later.

Both detectives drew their guns, even though they knew that Kirkpatrick could not turn up. They just had a short view of the house. It did not have a cellar.

Stabler ran down a path between bushes and discovered the entry to what they were searching.

"Olivia! Over here!"

She followed her partner through a door that led into the hill. It was the only visible part of the building, everything else was overgrown by grass and ivy.

Flashlights and guns at the ready they secured the first room then the second. There was a flight of stairs.

"Alex?!" Benson shouted. No response.

"C'mon!" Stabler was already on his way down the stairs.

They entered another room. Benson found the switch and in the flashing light they saw that it was stuffed with all kinds of technical equipment including computer and video systems. Muffled by the thick door a desperate scream reached the two detectives.

"Alex?!" Benson repeated.

Stabler was the one who had the copied keys which were found in Kirkpatrick's belongings. He already fumbled with them to open the door. When it swung open it revealed a breathtaking sight.

Eames bowed over Goren, performing resuscitation. Stabler did not even notice her nudity. As fast as he could he was at her side taking over the heart massage.

"How long?" he asked. "Alex! How long?!"

She just shook her head. Incredulously she looked up at him. She had not realized that she was not alone anymore. "Elliot?"

"'Liv, go out and watch for the paramedics. Most likely you have to marshal their chopper!" he ordered his partner.

Benson hesitated just for an instant. She knew that help was needed as fast as possible. Before she left she took off her blazer and put it around Eames' shoulders.

Stabler was working hard on Goren, counting to direct Eames' respiration.

"Bobby!"

Eames' desperate voice gave Stabler the creeps. Four. Five. Eames blew her breath into the inactive lungs.

One. Two.

"C'mon, Bobby," he yelled. "You stubborn, know-it-all son of a bitch! Don't you dare to die just now! Fight!"

Eames caught her breath as her partner slightly gasped for air. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks and she sobbed.

"Bobby? Can you hear me? Please, answer me…" she pleaded with a noticeable tremor in her voice.

He blinked, unable to voice anything. All his energy was needed to keep breathing.

"Bobby?" Stabler said. "It's me, Elliot Stabler. You're safe. You hear me, pal? We have the guy. You're both safe."

Barely noticeable Goren's gaze turned to Stabler. His lips moved but no sound left them.

"It's okay. Don't try and talk. Just don't quit on us, okay."

"Elliot's right," Eames added. "Don't talk. Just show me your big brown eyes… And don't ever do this to me again!"

"O' 'at?" Goren whispered.

Eames was totally caught by surprise. "I don't know yet but it will be something truly embarrassing."

"'Ey, Elliot, did ya kiss me?" The hint of a grin twisted Goren's lips.

Stabler returned it with a mischievous grin of his own. "In your dreams, Bobby."

Goren sighed and closed his eyes.

Stabler watched him closely, saw his breaths coming low but even. Then he looked at Eames who was holding her partner's hand, still crying. He blushed as he noticed that Benson's blazer did not have buttons, and Eames did not even seem to know that she was still naked beneath it. So Stabler took off his jacket and his shirt.

"Alex," he said, holding the latter out to her. "Alex! You better put this on."

She looked at him, puzzled, but took it from him. "Why?"

Stabler blushed even deeper. "Isn't that obvious?" he said, swearing inwardly for being insensitive.

Eames looked down at herself. He was right. She shrugged the blazer off her shoulders and slipped on the shirt. For her smaller form it was as long as a dress. She rolled up the sleeves and turned back to her partner.

Just then Benson was back, the paramedics and Fin Tutuola in her tow.

"John's outside, waiting for the others," she explained.

"Good," Stabler confirmed and stepped back to make room for the medics.

"How long has he been in cardiac arrest?" one of them asked.

"I'm not sure," Stabler replied. "Two, perhaps three minutes."

The doctor nodded and went to work by putting an oxygen mask over Goren's face. One of his colleagues injected medicaments and another inserted an IV needle. They still had to stabilize him before they could take him to the helicopter.

"Can I go with him?" Eames demanded to know. She also had moved aside but still knelt near him, not breaking the reassuring contact. "I don't want him to be alone. And he has no family to support him."

"We have enough space for two passengers," one doctor answered her.

"You should go with her, Olivia," Stabler said. "She can't handle that on her own. Though, she should not."

"I know. Of course I'll go with her," Benson confirmed. She went over to Eames and crouched beside her. "We're accompanying him together. Okay, Alex?"

Eames looked at her SVU colleague, smiling gratefully. "Yes, Olivia. Thank you."

xXx

Once the paramedics had mastered the difficult task to get Goren out of the cellar over the steep stairwell, Stabler and Tutuola looked around to take in their surroundings. Both put gloves on.

Then, following a sudden idea, Stabler switched off the lights.

"Fuck! And I thought the tape was creepy," Tutuola muttered. "Turn them on again, Elliot."

"Just give me a minute," Stabler contradicted.

"You think that's funny?"

"No." Stabler went to the middle of the room. "No, I don't think it's funny. That, exactly, is the reason I'm doing this."

Tutuola snorted but accepted his words.

Stabler closed his eyes, took several deep breaths and opened them again. He could not tell where Tutuola was standing. All he could see were the glowing chains. He came here to the rescue, he still wore his gun, he was not cuffed and he turned off the light voluntarily… but he still felt a gnawing fear build up inside. Now that he tried to relive the situation of the victims it was not hard to imagine how someone might feel who did not know where he was and how he got there.

He took two steps forward and grabbed the chain that dangled from the ceiling with both hands. It was clanking as he lifted his arms and took hold of it there.

"Hey, Elliot." Tutuola sounded alarmed. "What are you doing, man?"

"Fin?" Stabler asked instead. "How do you feel?"

"Uneasy."

"That's an understatement, Fin. Tell me the truth."

"Well, that idea with the fluorescent paint is weird. It's frightening, especially when you rattle with those chains."

"Try to imagine that you're bound with them."

"Elliot, is this necessary?"

"Do I scare you?"

"Will you end this when I tell you yes?"

"Only if you really mean it." Stabler let go of the chains. The clanking sent shivers down his spine. "Do you have enough imagination to put yourself in the captive's place, Fin? Forced to stand here, chained, naked, possibly for hours and hours, in total darkness? You don't know what will happen. You just know that everything that's going to come will most likely be worse than what you're already in."

He turned on his flashlight to look for the switches. When the room was brightly lit again, he took a look at the blood stains.

"And that was only the beginning. You remember when Eames got this tape? It was recorded sometime between the late afternoon of the day of Goren's abduction to the following morning. We don't know yet what happened in this time. It's possible that Bobby was forced to stand here for the whole night."

"You're trying yourself in psychology?" Tutuola asked.

"I'm just trying to imagine what this jerk has put him through. The same way I do with every other case."

"I never thought of _you_ as a freak," Tutuola teased. "You keep on talking like that and I'll probably change my mind."

"I don't like your implications," Stabler muttered.

"None intended. Actually I referred to Munch." He grinned. "You forget that I used to be Bobby's partner, too." Tutuola went to the other room and Stabler followed him.

"This stuff must have consumed a fortune. Just take the cameras with night vision technique for example."

Stabler took a look at the computer and the connected equipment. Next to the keyboard was a case filled with DVDs. He flipped through the discs which were sorted by date and hour. Finally he picked one out. For a while he just sat there and twirled the slim disc-case between his fingers, undecided if he should insert it into the drive.

"We shouldn't watch that while we're still here," Tutuola said.

"I don't want to…"

"Yet, you're some kind of curious."

"A morbid kind… yeah," Stabler admitted. "It's not because I'd like to see it. It's because I want to understand what happened and how I can possibly help." He still stared at the dates, scribbled on the disc. It was the night before Eames had been abducted, too. He opened the lid and put the disc into the DVD-drive.

The movie-program started automatically and the whole screen was filled with the sharp picture of the brightly lit cellar. At first there was only Goren, lying on the concrete floor. His back was sore and covered in blood. From this distance details were not recognizable. Then the camera zoomed in on the detective and the swollen welts and bruises were clearly visible.

Stabler wanted to turn the disc off but could not move. In horror he stared at the screen where Kirkpatrick stepped into view.

As a detective with the special victims unit Stabler had seen very many testimonies of cruel things that people could do to others. Some tales the victims had to tell seemed to be downright unbelievable. Yet, Stabler often experienced new facets of human nature with every new case he investigated and he never ceased to be surprised.

Now he watched a sadist enjoy his perverted game. Stabler just thought that Kirkpatrick was done when he turned once again on the beaten man. The sadist's words made his hair stand on end and his stomach turned when they were followed by action.

Stabler spun round and managed to reach a distant corner before he threw up. When all contents were spilled he dry-retched heavily and went down on hands and knees.

Abruptly the screams ended and Tutuola was at his side.

"Elliot, man, are you okay?"

Stabler shook his head. "Fin… I… I really have seen a lot… but this…"

"I know." He, too, was as pale as a black man could be and his insides churned. He eyed his friend skeptically. "It's more than that, isn't it?"

Slowly Stabler looked up at him. Tears bordered his eyes and mental pain distorted his features. He choked it down.

"In the factory… he tried to take me. Seeing Bobby on that disc now…" Stabler shuddered. "It's horrifying and repulsive. I shouldn't… It's wrong to… You know…?"

Stabler's helpless rambling testified to his emotional uproar. After days of constant pressure, working the case, trying to figure out the killer, the stress finally released. Once more violent shudders passed Stabler's body.

Taking him by the shoulders Tutuola tried to steady his colleague. Slowly his words sank in and the detective realized what made him so agitated.

"We should get out of here," he suggested. "C'mon."

Tutuola helped Stabler to get up and they left the cellar to get a bit of fresh air.

xXx

The helicopter had not flown far when Goren lost consciousness again. Across the shoulder of the medic Eames had caught a look at him just before he passed out. She had shuddered at the _Eames_ that fell from his trembling lips in a sigh as he closed his eyes. He did not regain consciousness during the flight.

The medics worked on him expertly. Once the chopper landed on the hospital's rooftop doctors from the ER picked them up and transported Goren to surgery.

Benson by her side Eames was herded to an examination room. For a moment they were left on their own. Having a few calm minutes sitting on the exam table Eames finally realized what had happened. Giving in to her exhaustion she slumped on her seat and started to cry. Benson rushed to her and steadied her. When she took her in her arms she noticed the blood covering her skin under Stabler's shirt.

"Alex, are you okay?" she asked, anxiously. "Are you injured?"

"What?"

"Are you injured, Alex? Do you hurt?"

Looking down at herself now Eames noticed the blood, too. That also explained the scent she had in her nose and could not get rid of.

"It's his blood," she rasped. "When they were fighting he stabbed himself with a lever. He was bleeding all over me when…"

Trailing off Eames looked aside, trying to avoid Benson who, as a trained and experienced SVU detective recognized the signs. So she had no trouble to figure out what Eames left unspoken. For another moment she just held her reassuringly before she spoke, "You know what to do."

"Yeah," Eames murmured uneasily. "I still don't want to." Tremors passed her body. "You still haven't told me how you found us."

"Cockrill had an accident. His doctor at hospital recognized him and called the police. CSU then estimated a search radius around where he had the crash, and we checked every cellar we could find."

Eames nodded thoughtfully. "I see. He wouldn't tell you."

"He couldn't," Benson clarified. "He's in a coma."

"In a coma…" Eames breathed. Once more she shuddered. "So it was pure luck…"

"And good old fashioned detective work. I didn't count the cellars we've seen today." _I'd better not mention that it _was_ pure luck…_ Benson mused.

"I didn't know what to do," Eames gasped. "If you and Elliot wouldn't have come in time…"

"We found you. That's all that counts, Alex." Benson was distracted by another woman entering the room.

"Dr. Virginia Brooks," she introduced herself. "Alexandra Eames?"

"Yeah, Alex," the detective replied.

"Okay, Alex. I'm gonna give you a once over. Why don't you take off that shirt and let me have a look at you?"

Eames hesitated, her gaze wandering to Benson who smiled encouragingly. After a moment's consideration Eames nodded.

"We'll need a rape kit, Dr. Brooks," Benson told the doctor quietly.

"And news about Detective Robert Goren," Eames added, looking hopefully at the medic.

"All I know is that he is in surgery right now," doctor Brooks said. "I'll go and ask again when we're done, okay?"

Eames nodded.

"Okay. I'll go and get the kit. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

For another moment they were on their own. Eames chewed on her bottom lip and kneaded her hands. She was definitely not looking forward to the examination. Who would? But she knew that she had to do it, not only for the evidence, but also for her own sake.

"I'm glad that you're here, Olivia," Eames said.

"If you feel more comfortable with someone else," Benson started, but her colleague interrupted her.

"No, it's okay. I'm really glad that it's you. You're good at what you do. I'm in good hands." She tried a smile and failed.

"I'll help you," Benson reassured her. "You'll be fine."

_Fine_. Eames felt tremors run through her body. _I don't think that I'll be fine._

Dr. Brooks returned. So Eames shrugged out of Stabler's shirt to let them take pictures of her bare and bruised body. Once they were done she lay down on the exam couch and put her legs in the stirrups.

Taking a deep breath she reached out for Benson. The SVU detective took her hand and stayed by her side through the whole examination.

tbc…


	31. Chapter 30

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! Also thanks for the new alerts for this story. It makes me happy to know that you like it so much. I have to apologize for the long wait. Obviously my muse got abducted by aliens and it took Torchwood so long to get her back safely. No, that's bull, I just was awfully stuck. I hate it when that happens. Sorry. But now… Enjoy!

**Ch 30**

**St. Vincents Hospital**

**Manhattan**

As promised Dr. Brooks went to ask for news about Detective Goren right after finishing the rape examination. Anxiously Eames waited for her return. Right then Benson slipped back into the room, holding a bundle of clothes out to her. Eames slipped on the sports pants that were a little too long for her petite frame and pulled the sweater over her head. She rolled up the cuffs of the pants and pushed back the sleeves of the sweater. Then she put on the slippers Olivia offered.

"Thanks," she murmured. "Where…?"

"A nurse gave them to me," Benson explained. "I guess she's a little taller than you. Sorry."

Eames shook her head. "Don't apologize. I appreciate it, but I still need news about Bobby and a big, strong coffee."

"I'm sure Dr. Brooks will be right back."

"Hope so. I have to see Bobby. God, I hope nothing too horrible happened to him." During the exam Eames had managed to remain relatively calm, thanks to Benson, but now her worry for her partner came to the fore.

As if on cue Dr. Brooks came back in again.

"Dr. Brooks!" Eames blurted out, excitedly stumbling towards the doctor. "How's Bobby doing?"

"I could exchange a few quick words with Dr. Nolan. He stabilized Mr. Goren until he was brought to surgery. Dr. Weir is operating."

"Oh, my God."

"Dr. Weir is one of our best surgeons. Mr. Goren is in good hands," Dr. Brooks tried to reassure her. "Why don't you go to the surgical waiting room? As soon as Mr. Goren is settled in ICU you'll be able to see him."

"Let's do that, Alex," Benson agreed.

"Oh God, poor Bobby. I know it must be bad. What I saw… it was horrifying." The seasoned detective was close to tears when she thought of her precious partner, battered and violated by the serial killer they were supposed to catch. A breath caught in her throat and made her gag. She coughed hard and gasped for breath.

Dr. Brooks threw an assessing look at her. Of course she recognized the signs and knew that Alex Eames cared deeply for the man she worked with. She thought about offering a mild sedative but thought better of it when she saw the detective pull herself together. _What a strong woman,_ Dr. Brooks thought.

"Dr. Brooks, where do we find the surgical waiting area?" Benson asked.

"On the second floor," the doctor replied. "You take the elevator and you'll see it when you arrive."

"Thank you, Dr. Brooks. C'mon, Alex. Let's go."

"Yes, Dr. Brooks," Eames said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I hope your partner will be alright."

Eames smiled tightly at her before she left with Benson. She was glad for the company the SVU detective offered. Actually she did not know if she would find the strength she needed within herself right now.

As Dr. Brooks had said they left the elevator and spotted the signs leading them to the waiting room they were looking for. The attendant at the desk answered their questions with the information that Mr. Goren still was in surgery and and they would know more when the surgeon was able to speak to them. Then she pointed out the coin-operated snack machines, gave them instructions to the hospital cafeteria, 'in case it's a long wait', and offered to show them how to operate the coffee machine.

When Eames and Benson entered they found a young uniformed officer there. Getting up from his seat he asked, "Detective Eames?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "And you are…"

"Officer Fleming, Ma'am. Captain Deakins asked for a vigil and I'm the first who arrived. The rest of your squad will come soon. Well, the ones who are off duty."

"Thank you, Officer Fleming," Eames said. "This is Detective Olivia Benson, and I'm Alex." She held out her hand for him and he shook it hesitantly.

"Gordon Fleming," he told her. "So… I'll wait together with you, Detective Eames, if that's okay?"

"Alex. Yes, I appreciate you being here."

"Nice to meet you, Gordon," Benson said, nodding at him. "I'm Olivia."

He smiled at her and acknowledged her with a nod of his head.

Together Eames and Fleming sat down while Benson remained standing.

"I'll call Elliot and Captain Deakins," she declared. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Sure, Olivia. Tell Deakins that I'm okay."

"I will." She smiled encouragingly. "And Bobby will be all right, too. He's stubborn. He'll surprise us all."

_I hope you're right,_ Eames thought and tried to smile back. Benson left. She was not gone for more than five minutes when a man entered the waiting room. Surprised Eames recognized Rick Simon.

xXx

**near Stockholm**

**New Jersey**

The courtyard above the vineyard was filled with vehicles and busy as an anthill. Stabler sat down in the open backdoor of a van to sip at the coffee someone had given him. He was still a little shaken by what he had seen. Fresh air had helped to calm his stomach. He did not care if coffee made it better or worse. Right now it tasted just great and warmed him from the inside.

"All right?" Fin asked when he stopped beside him.

"Hmmm… tired," Stabler replied.

"Know what you mean."

"By the way, well done, Detective Stabler," someone else interrupted.

When Stabler looked to the other side he saw Captain Deakins.

"We just did our job, Sir," Stabler replied. "And we were lucky."

"And you were right in time to save Goren's life," Deakins said seriously. "Thank you."

Stabler just waved it off. He was not comfortable with compliments, never had been.

"Did you hear anything yet?" he asked instead.

"No," Deakins replied. "Actually I'm surprised that Eames hasn't called."

"Benson only let me know that she would attend Eames's examination," Stabler told him. "She hasn't called back yet."

"I see."

They spent a few moments in silence before Stabler said, "Bonasera and Messer are already down there, right?"

"Yes, they are," Deakins confirmed. "Detective Taylor said he would be here as soon as he can. They'll have a lot to investigate in that cellar."

"Yeah," Stabler sighed.

"He turned off the lights," Tutuola muttered.

"What?"

"In the cellar Stabler turned off the lights. Experimented a little on us."

"Why are _you_ complaining, Fin?" Stabler snarled.

"I ain't complainin', just statin' facts," Fin grumbled. "It was creepy."

"What did you see down there?" Deakins mused.

Thoughtfully Stabler bit his lower lip. "Tons of evidence," he finally answered. He felt his stomach roll. "I don't envy the ones who'll have to view all those tapes and discs."

"Everything's down there?"

"Perv documented each of his crimes," Fin said. "Boxes of films and VHS tapes. The newest ones on DVD."

"To relive them all over again…" Thoughtfully Deakins rubbed his chin. _Deciding who views and evaluates the evidence will require a careful choice._ _Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now we have to get finished here._ "So, if everything's about to be bagged and tagged and the techs are all over the computers..." the captain mused, "there's not a lot more you can do here. So why don't you head in?"

"Well…" Tutuola started.

"We can't go… just like that," Stabler stammered. "I mean… we… have a job to do…"

"You should go back to Manhattan," Deakins declared. "You worked like a dog. Take a break."

"Sir?" Stabler said incredulously. After the long hours under constant stress it was hard to accept that they did not have to be on alert anymore.

"I mean it. We all are worn out. Go home, drink a beer…" he paused suggestively, "have a good night's rest."

"Well, we can't disobey a direct order," Tutuola said. "C'mon, Elliot. Let's check on Bobby."

"Okay," Stabler agreed, getting up reluctantly. He still felt as if they were not finished yet.

"And then you should go home before your family forgets what you look like," Tutuola teased as they walked to their car.

"Yeah," Munch agreed as he joined them. "Wouldn't want to be in his shoes when he comes home and Kathy attacks him, defending their house and kids against him because she thinks he's a robber."

"Very funny, guys," Stabler grumbled, but he was not really angry.

As they left the scene the two forensics just entered the cell. They had worked on the other rooms before where now the techs started to examine the computer and camera equipment. Now they stopped two steps into the room.

"Now look at that," Messer said. "I was stunned by all those discs, and I don't want to be the one examining that evidence… but this?"

"I know what you mean, Danny, but someone will have to do it," Bonasera replied, taking in the evidence in front of them. "This will take some time."

Messer nodded. "Then let's get started."

"I want to see it in darkness," Bonasera said, looking for the light switch. Messer reached for it instead and a second later they could not see their hands before their eyes…

…only the chains glowing sinisterly.

"Whoa!" Messer switched the light back on.

"Exactly," his partner agreed. Carefully she stepped toward the boxes along the wall to their left. "Let's see what he kept in here."

They already had gloves on. Now they squatted beside the containers, having a look at their contents. They would take the boxes back to the lab to sort through them there in a more controlled environment where there was less chance of evidence being corrupted, misplaced, or damaged and where they could test things if necessary. Working at their labs also put them closer to emergency services in case a suspect left a nasty surprise in something. Still it could happen here, too, but as much as they knew an ambulance was still close by.

"He cleaned up, but there still are signs of his previous victims," Messer murmured. "I wonder if all the fresher blood is from one person."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find it out when you examine the samples at the lab."

"Thanks, Stella. That was the encouragement I needed," he chuckled wryly and stopped beside the cage. His insides constricted when he let his gaze wander over the bars and he tried to imagine how it might be to be trapped inside.

Messer shuddered.

"I'm not sure if I want to find out what happened down here," he sighed.

"Danny?" Bonasera asked.

"I'm fine," he murmured. "It's just… I don't know. This scene feels different."

"Maybe because it was one of our brothers who was trapped here," another male voice mingled in their conversation.

Messer and Bonasera turned to the newcomer.

"Agent Malone," Bonasera said. "Are you here to take over the investigation?"

"We have to wrap up our case, too," Malone explained. "We cleared the way for Major Case Squad earlier and now we need to close our investigation. What did you find so far?"

"It's too early to say anything," Bonasera told the FBI agent. "You'll get a report as soon as we're done examining the evidence."

"I know, Detective Bonasera. Of course we will. But can you tell me something now?"

"As I said, it's too early. We'll need time for this scene."

"Okay. Just wanted to ask."

The agent turned and left the cell.

"Yeah, just wanted to ask and increase the pressure a little," Messer grumbled. "Okay, let's get it done."

With renewed determination both forensics attended to their task at hand.

xXx

**St. Vincents Hospital**

**Manhattan**

Time ticked by mercilessly.

Eames got up and paced, annoying her colleagues. Inwardly she chuckled wryly. _I'm taking on Bobby's habits._

"It's nice of you to be here," Benson said to Rick Simon who wrote something in his notepad.

"No problem. My brother would've come, too, but he's busy… as usual." He snorted.

"He needs to run his office."

"I know." Rick smirked and glanced at her. "It's not as if I didn't have an office myself to run. Our detectives are pretty independent, though. So I can afford to be here in New York after all."

Eames continued her pacing as much as she could. The waiting room was crowded with cops. _I've got to get out of here,_ she thought, but she knew that she would not go anywhere before she could see her partner.

_Half of the squad is here. I wouldn't have thought that they would all come. They went to give blood and now they sit here and wait._

Wait.

They waited for another ten minutes.

Five minutes later another woman entered the room.

"Darcy," Eames said when she recognized Goren's former fiancé. "Come in."

Hesitantly she came closer, slightly intimidated by the presence of all the cops. She went to occupy the last free space between Eames and Benson and sat down.

"How is he?" she asked.

"We don't know yet," Eames told her honestly. "He's in surgery. They'll let us know as soon as he's in ICU."

"I see." She sighed, kneading her fingers. "God, that shouldn't have happened."

"Yeah," Eames mumbled. She leaned back and tried to think of nothing. The murmuring of her colleagues around her was droning, lulling her to a trance like state.

So she did not notice the next newcomer at once. Her attention was only piqued when everyone around her fell silent.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Weir. Who's here for Mr. Goren?"

A surprising silence followed the appearance of the short doctor who was black as the night, even more in contrast to his white doctor's jacket. Eames' mouth opened to speak, but could not get a single sound out. Worry for her partner corded up her throat.

"We all are!" Benson told him instead.

"How is he?" Eames finally blurted out, anxious.

"Well," Dr. Weir began hesitantly. "I understand that you are Mr. Goren's next of kin?"

"Yes, sir," Eames confirmed.

"Who else is?" Dr. Weir asked the others.

Benson looked at Eames while Rick got up and left, as did Officer Fleming and the rest of the Major Case Squad.

"Stay," Eames rasped. "It's okay, Dr. Weir. Detective Benson can hear what you have to say. You, too, Darcy."

The doctor nodded thoughtfully and gestured them to take a seat in the chairs across from his desk. "I can say that Mr. Goren is currently stable. During surgery we had to revive him a second time. We repaired tendons and muscles when we were treating the gunshot wound. It is closed now, but we'll have to see how it will develop. It can still prove to be dangerous."

"How dangerous?" Eames interrupted him. Instinctively she reached out for Benson.

"In the worst case… he could lose his leg." Seeing Eames panicky features he rushed to add, "It doesn't look like that right now, but it is a possibility we can't disregard."

"Oh, my God," Eames gasped. She simply could not imagine it. If that should turn out to be her partner's fate then he would not survive that. She was sure of it.

"Concerning his foot Mr. Goren was incredibly lucky. The nail, I presume, that was driven through his foot didn't tear any tendons or injure any bones."

Eames thought she was going to go sick. She did not even realize that Goren had been wounded to badly. She saw him fight, for her, and he had been so full of rage and adrenalin that his injuries hardly affected him at that time.

"Actually I'm more concerned about the genital and rectal injuries Mr. Goren sustained."

Eames blanched considerably. She clutched harder at Benson's hand, almost crushing it in her iron grip. The SVU detective was appalled, too, at the extent of Goren's injuries.

"One of Mr. Goren's rotator cuffs is injured, too. It is not life threatening, but it will require surgery, too. Most of Mr. Goren's other injuries are superficial," Dr. Weir continued. "They are flesh wounds originating from different kinds of weapons."

"What is his prognosis?" Benson asked, because she sensed that Eames was not able to find her voice right now.

"Right now we'll have to wait and see. The next forty-eight hours are critical. Mr. Goren was dehydrated and malnourished. We are generally optimistic, but we will simply have to wait and give his body time to recover."

"Do you expect him to wake up any time soon?" Eames asked hopefully.

Taking a deep breath that was more intended to calm Goren's partner rather than himself Dr. Weir said, "We like to think so. We need to know whether or not he suffered any brain damage. So we want him to wake up as soon as possible, of course."

"I see," Eames gasped barely audibly. Her voice was hoarse and she felt her stomach muscles constrict. What she had heard shook her to the core. Once he woke up her beloved partner would be in so much pain and even though she knew that the doctors would do everything to help him she still could not be comforted with that thought.

Seeing her colleague's reaction Benson wondered if it had been such a good idea to talk with Goren's surgeon, but on the other hand she was certain that she would want to know how Stabler was doing if she was in the same situation. So she could not blame Eames. All she could do was to be there for her and offer her all the support she needed. And she would need it.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Weir," Benson said.

Once more the doctor nodded at them. "You're welcome."

"Can I see him?" Eames suddenly asked. "Just for a short moment." She looked at Dr. Weir hopefully. "Please?"

"I think that will be possible. He could even benefit from your presence."

Daring to feel relieved Eames smiled a small smile. She longed to be with her partner, to hold his hand, to comfort him, to murmur reassurances.

"Thank you, Dr. Weir."

"Come," Benson said, getting up. "Let's go and see Bobby."

Eames nodded. "We'll come in a minute, Dr. Weir, if that's okay."

"All right," he agreed and left the waiting room.

As soon as the doctor stepped out the detectives spilled back into the room, looking at Eames expectantly.

"Goren is in ICU," she told them. "He's stable right now but the next 48 hours will be critical. I'm going to see him now. Thank you all for being here. I really appreciate it and I will tell Bobby that you are here for him. Thanks."

Then Eames left the waiting room together with Benson who accompanied her to Goren's room. There a nurse went in together with the detective. While Eames sat down beside her partner she checked on the IV before she left again.

Eames looked at her partner.

He was still unconscious. Under the white sheets he appeared to be very pale. He also was unusually still. Eames realized that she had never seen him so immobile and silent. It was so not like her partner.

She sighed.

"Oh, Bobby. Please come back. You're safe now."

Of course she got no answer.

"They're all here, all of Major Case who are not on duty, sitting vigil. Olivia helped me a lot, kept me company. She's right outside the room. Darcy Stanton is here, too, as well as Lewis and Rick Simon." She chuckled. "He was being so sweet earlier. He threatened us when we couldn't find a lead…"

She trailed off, unable to trust her voice for a moment.

"Agent Johnson stopped by and asked how you're doing, but she could not stay. Deakins is still out there… but he sends his best wishes."

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed movement. Looking over her shoulder she found Elliot Stabler standing beside his partner, watching them. He nodded when their gazes met.

Eames turned back to Goren.

"Elliot is here, too. They all want to support you. So come back you big oaf, okay."

A warm smile stole itself on her lips when she reached out for his hand, gently took it and settled more comfortably in her chair beside him.

"I love you, Bobby. Please come back to me."

xXx

**Robert Goren**

_It was dark._

_Coldness crept into his body like worms through the soft soil after a summer rain. He tried to find his way out of the dark. There was a tiny light, a pinprick in the black cloth covering everything. It led him through the cave he was trapped in, an underground maze that had so many junctions that he felt completely lost._

_The miniature shine lured him down a long tunnel, the cloth of darkness scraping over his face, not releasing him. He was tangled in strands of rough fabric that hindered his progress. In his eagerness to reach the light he struggled against the floating bonds and fell._

_Nothing stopped his fall._

_Endlessly he dropped into darkness. Agravic. Lost in an indefinable space._

_Like Alice in Wonderland__._

_He did not land in a chamber with a giant and a tiny door. There was no table with a key. There was no bottle labelled __drink me__._

_As darkness faded leaves rushed past his vision… or he flew past the leaves… never hitting twigs or branches, shooting through a blur of shades of green._

_He tried to stop and started to tumble, the green spinning around him as he descended. His fall slowed until he hovered over a clearing, fresh grass swaying in a gentle breeze, the sun warming his shivering body and throwing green beams through the canopy of leaves._

_Yearning to rest in the soft grass he struggled to get the last yards down. He sank slowly until he finally lay sprawled on the clearing. Warm sunlight caressed his face and the soft ground beneath his back made him feel safe like a baby in its cradle. Grass swaying around him bent over his body like a green blanket._

_Peace._

_He could stay forever._

_Thunderstruck, he tensed up when lightning shot through the foliage above him. Hitting the ground the bolt woke the plants in the ground. Roots rose from the soil, dancing in the twilight like belly dancers from hell. Panicked, he tried to get up, but roots snaked around his limbs, pinning him._

_His eyes grew wide with terror._

_A rising storm parted the treetops and heavy rain splashed down on the clearing, icy pinpricks torturing his skin. Tears streamed out of his eyes and joined the rain. His agony increased as he ineffectively fought back the roots. All around him white hoods grew between the strands of grass. Long white hats of mushrooms that clung to their stems. They looked like asparagus and the tops changed their shapes to heads._

_Realizing what was happening he doubled his efforts to free himself, but the roots wound even faster around his body. The mushrooms popped out of the soil, jumping at him. They prodded his body, their heads pushing for entrance. A couple of phalluses went for his buttocks and he opened his mouth to scream for help when a giant mushroom shot toward his face and into his oral cavity, filling him and pushing deep into his throat, suffocating him._

_The darkness returned._

tbc…


	32. Chapter 31

**The Locust**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! Special thanks to _Comix28_ whose comment after catching up blew me away. You said you felt like watching an episode… wow, and I'm just glad that I could make it work. Thanks again.

Very special thanks to _Bammi1_ who supported me so much with beta-reading, sharing ideas, and discussing plot and characters. Special thanks to _JO_ who also contributed a lot to the story.

Enjoy!

**Ch 31**

**St. Vincents Hospital**

**Manhattan**

For a moment he stood by the window to Goren's room, watching Eames and the big immobile detective. He knew that it was a small miracle that Goren was here. By a hair's breadth they would have lost him.

He had wanted to give his blood. Like every cop who came to visit Goren he wanted to go to the nurses first and make a sacrifice before he went to sit vigil with his colleagues, but he had been attacked and as long as he did not know more about his own state he could not give blood. Now Stabler leaned in a hardly comfortable chair, waiting for news about the Major Case detective.

Stabler could not pay attention to the conversations for long. The chatter around him faded away to background sounds. It changed to a constant drone that bore into his mind like a drill. Soon his temples began to throb and his throat corded up. He felt trapped as well as the urge to leave the increasingly suffocating room, unable to stand the presence of so many people.

So he stood up and went out to the hall. There he found a chair where he sat down and watched the busy nurses and other personnel passing by. The noise out here was different. It rose and fell like waves washing up on the shore. It was easier to blank that out.

While he kept on waiting his mind took him back on a trip down memory lane. Suddenly he found himself in the vacated warehouse, following the shadow into the darkness… and felt the bump in his back. He was thrown down, his weapon smacked out of his hands. Prone on the concrete there was nothing he could do to defend himself. Then he was pulled up and shoved around until they ended up in the cellar. Cardboard boxes. A muzzle against his head. His smell. Wetness.

He thought he would go mad.

"Hey!"

The sound startled Stabler.

"Detective Stabler! Are you all right?"

When the detective raised his gaze he looked right into a pair of dark brown eyes

"Oh, hello, Agent Malone," he said.

"Are you all right?" Malone repeated his question and when Stabler frowned he added, "You're white as a sheet."

"It's nothing," the detective lied. "I've been working too many hours and waited for too long on this uncomfortable chair."

Malone eyed him sceptically. He would not have become leader of one of the best units of the New York FBI field office if he was stupid. Jack Malone knew how to read people and he knew that Stabler was anything but okay.

"C'mon, I'll buy you a coffee," Malone suggested.

"Already had too much. Thank you," Stabler declined the offer.

"We could go for a short walk," Malone tried again. "Get some fresh air."

"Sounds good, but I don't want to leave."

"So that you won't miss any news?" Malone guessed.

"Yeah."

The FBI agent nodded. "How's Goren doing?"

"He's out of emergency surgery," Stabler told him. "Everyone's waiting for him to wake up."

"So I take it he's stable?"

"Yes. As much as I heard he'll need surgery again, but we'll have to see."

Once more agent Malone nodded.

"What about you?" the special agent wanted to know.

"What about me?" Stabler asked back irritably.

"I know that you usually work with SVU, but still… it's a difficult case."

"I manage," Stabler grumbled. No way in hell would he mention his own involvement in the case to the FBI agent. _Though I guess that he knows about it. I bet they have our files._ He suppressed a bitter chuckle. _Something John could go on about for hours._ "I assume that you don't have to deal with cases like that regularly either."

Malone huffed.

"No, we don't."

Before Malone had any chance to say more Stabler excused himself and pushed past him, approaching a woman coming down the hall.

"Elliot," Carolyn Barek greeted him. "How's Bobby? Did you hear anything?"

"He came through surgery all right," Stabler told her. "The next forty-eight hours, though, will be touch and go."

She nodded. "I guessed that much," Barek sighed. "Where's Alex? How's she doing?"

"She's all right. She's sitting with Goren." After a moment's thought he asked, "How's Logan doing?"

"Right now he's stable," she said. "At first it looked good, but then, being Mike Logan, he had to make trouble again. He's giving the staff a hard time… and he's not even conscious."

Despite the gravity of the situation Stabler had to chuckle.

"Yeah, that sounds like the Logan I know," he said.

That elicited a smile from Barek that grew when her gaze went past Stabler. "Alex!"

"Hello, Carolyn," Eames replied, sinking into her colleague's embrace. "I need a coffee," she groaned and stretched. "I'm already sore."

"How's Bobby?"

"No change yet. Darcy is with him now."

"That's good. We could go to the cafeteria for a coffee," Barek suggested. "Do you want to come, too, Elliot?"

Seeing no point in sitting alone in the hall when he could also go with the female detectives Stabler nodded. Together they went down the hall and to the elevator that would take them downstairs to the cafeteria.

xXx

**Robert Goren**

The mushrooms with the long heads had dissolved to a white drizzle of spores and rained down on everything, covering his body with a sticky film. He tried to get up but it was difficult so he sank back down. When he raised an arm it drew threads like those of chewing gum up from the ground. The sticky stuff glued everything together, keeping him down.

Desperately he attempted to roll aside, but the substance toughened, making it more and more difficult to move at all. He felt it tear on his skin as it hardened, immobilizing him completely.

All he could do now was stare at the darkness around him that only slowly subsided. There was a red light to his left and he focused on it entirely. It grew. Then he realized that it did not grow but that it came closer. Close enough for him to notice that it was no light at all but the red pupil of an eye. The iris was of a deeper red, crossed by fine dark lines. It hovered over him. A tear formed in its corner and a giant drop of blood splashed down on him. It cried harder, completely dissolving in blood, raining down on him.

He screamed but no sound could be heard.

The tension of his body, though, broke the hardened substance, its pieces shooting in all directions like shrapnel. The darkness shattered. Walls closed in on him, red eyes staring down at him from under the ceiling. Blood trickled down the bricks everywhere, pooling on the ground. More and more blood ran down the walls. The level rose and he sat up, panicked. Blood splashed up when his hand broke the surface.

Help!

It did not matter how loud he screamed. Nothing could be heard.

Higher and higher rose the red tide, washing against his hips now.

The blood bubbled.

The eyes stared.

A voice called out for him that he did not recognize.

Now he had to tread blood.

The red liquid did not boil. There was something moving in it.

Snakes!

Suddenly they shot toward him.

He screamed, feeling the snakes bore into him. One dove into his mouth. He choked. It suffocated him.

Darkness returned.

xXx

**St. Vincents Hospital**

**Manhattan**

"Oh, my God! What's wrong? What's happening to him? Bobby!"

Stabler wrapped his arms around Eames' slender form. They just came back from the cafeteria when they met an excited Darcy in the hall. Nurses and doctors rushed past them, vanishing into Goren's room.

"Bobby!"

"Easy, Alex," Stabler whispered in her ear. "C'mon, let's sit down."

"But Bobby… "

"He's taken good care of, Alex," he reassured her. "C'mon."

He guided her over to a seat and shoved her down. Reluctantly she let go of his arm. Kneading her hands she sat stiffly on the chair and waited. Fortunately she did not have to wait for long until the staff members left Goren's room.

Jumping up she stormed toward the first doctor she spotted, "What happened? How is he? Is he okay?"

"Mr. Goren went into respiratory arrest," the doctor told her. "We had to put him on a ventilator."

"Oh, my God!" Tears threatened in her eyes, burning. "What does that mean for his recovery?"

"Well, it's a setback, but we don't expect lasting damage by it."

"He's still unconscious, right?" Eames wanted to know.

"Yes."

"And his chances of regaining consciousness changed for the worse, I assume." She had to fight to keep her voice from shaking.

"Not necessarily," the doctor said. "It's possible that he could wake up in the next minutes or in a few days. There's no way to tell."

_Or not at all,_ Eames thought. Inwardly she shuddered. She had been relieved to see him alive when Kirkpatrick had abducted her. Goren was not in a good state, but he was alive. Then they were found and flown to the hospital. He came through surgery and the prognosis was not that bad. _And now he'll probably die. He made it through all of that only to die in a hospital bed?_

"I want to see him," she declared.

xXx

**Robert Goren**

Lying on the bottom of a deep brick well shaft he stared up at the blinding light shining down on him. He was well and truly petrified, his body rigid like a rock. The ground beneath him was soft and his body surrounded by squirming snakes. His mouth was opened to a soundless scream, snakes continuously slithering into his oral cavity and down his throat. How they could enter endlessly he did not know, though. It was a miracle in itself and he refused to think too much about it. Eyes were mounted on the bricks, staring down at him with cruel red coldness. Out of the grooves between the stones ran blood down the wall. It certainly pooled under the snakes, but he could not feel it.

With his mouth filled he could not speak. He was either blinded by white light or enveloped by darkness when he closed his eyes. All he could feel were the snakes winding around him.

He could hear.

There was a heavenly melody that he could not really place. Where it came from he could not tell. And yet it was painfully familiar.

It soothed his impending panic that threatened to overwhelm him. The weight of the snakes around and inside his body might have suffocated him if it was not for that sound. He clung to it like a drowning man to a straw.

What made him most curious was that certain tones were repeated every now and then. Whatever the source of the sounds was, it became a reliable presence in this horrible place. Over time it became clearer and sometimes he even thought he could identify words. Still he could not be sure.

Suddenly the melody was gone.

Why would it leave him? He did not understand it. Just when he thought that he found some kind of a guiding star it was gone.

He closed his eyes and the darkness coming over him soon spread through his whole being. Fear enveloped him. Never before had he felt so desperately alone.

Lost so completely in the dark he almost missed the return of the melody. It was slightly louder this time. Its intensity increased and it became more and more urgent.

_Bobby!_

What was that? Did he hear right? A word woven into the sweet melody?

_Bobby!_

No, he was not mistaken. The music called out for him.

It drew him forwards, upwards, out of the snake pit. Still he felt suffocated. The walls, though, did not feel so oppressive anymore. At some point he was above the staring eyes and he could barely see the rim of the shaft. The light grew so intense that he could not stand it anymore and closed his eyes again.

"Bobby?"

It was so clear that he thought it would ring inside his head, but that could not be. Could it?

"Oh, Bobby…"

There was more of it, but he could not understand it. His body did not feel weightless anymore. He did not drift any longer. Instead he was drawn to that white light and then suddenly smells assaulted his nose. With the scents came more sounds. They hurt his mind. He wanted to escape but could not move. He still found himself immobilized, not by the bodies of the snakes but by his own weight. His limbs did not feel as if they belonged to him, his muscles not obeying his wishes.

"Bobby?!"

Blinking he tried to see through the blinding light above him. Once more the melody was gone, but in its stead he heard a female voice call a name. His name, he realized.

"Bobby! You're awake!"

Who was this?

"Oh, my God. Bobby."

And suddenly it hit him.

"Alex!" he called out for Eames. Or at least he thought he did, but no sound left his mouth. Something was stuck in it, was forced down his throat. Air being pressed into his lungs made him panic and his muscles contracted.

"Easy, Bobby," Eames said. "Don't fight it. You're on a ventilator."

She let out a relieved laugh and it filled him with delight to hear her voice. He wanted to respond to her, but it was impossible.

"Shhh, Bobby. I'm here. Now everything's going to be all right."

Now he could see her face hovering over him. He felt her hand take his own. It was the only thing he could do.

He squeezed her hand in an effort to reassure her.

xXx

**St. Vincents Hospital**

**Manhattan**

After he first woke up Goren more or less drifted through the next days in a drug induced haze, finding Eames by his side whenever he woke from his haunted sleep. The ventilator had been removed on his second day awake but he still could not talk because his throat was so sore. His voice just would not form.

Horrible.

He could hardly stand the silence. Surprisingly enough Eames did the talking. Goren did not think that he had ever heard her talk that much. When he scowled at her she would ask him if she should stop and he would blink once to confirm it.

By now he found his voice again, but he would not use it much because he still was sore. He was content listening to Eames, or Darcy for that matter. The two women switched places. Whenever Eames could not be there for him Darcy would stay and the other way round.

Sometimes Deakins stopped by. Stabler and Benson had been visiting as well as a few other colleagues. But besides Eames and Darcy, Lewis had been the first who came to see him. His childhood friend had not been able to attend the vigil neither regularly nor long, but as soon as he got word that Goren was awake he had been at his bedside.

On the weekend Lewis would stay longer and he also tried to come during the week. It was a big comfort for Goren to have him by his side. Eames also was a great help, together with Darcy. Eames' parents also belonged to the people who came regularly.

Goren found himself surrounded by a growing support group. He did not know how he earned himself so much compassion and love and he doubted that he deserved it. At times he appreciated the help. At other times he loathed the condition he was in and any contact at all.

The days in hospital all melted together, interrupted only by two more surgeries, but otherwise being constantly painful and boring. Time healed his wounds and he grew stronger with every day.

At least physically.

The more he recovered the more apparent his mental instability became. He was haunted by nightmares. Flashbacks disturbed his days. The memories just would not leave him alone. He had always been a good actor, though, and so no one noticed that he hid his despair and depression.

Physiotherapy started and he began to see a psychiatrist. His recovery went on well.

Of course he learned that his abductor had survived the stab wound and even the crash with his car. He knew that Cockrill was in a coma. He knew that there would be no trial as long as he was in that condition.

Soon the day would come when Goren would be able to leave the hospital and he just knew that that would be when Eames had to start to work again. She had always been there for him. The one constant he always could rely on.

The one who loved him.

Goren loved her.

The day when he was released from hospital she was there to bring him home.

xXx

**Major Case Squad**

**One Police Plaza**

**Manhattan**

Something like routine settled back over the squad. Eames and Barek were back at work, each with a temporary partner, and everything went back to business as usual.

Almost.

No one could really get used to Goren not being in the office. Even though his antics often amused and irritated the other detectives, they missed his efficiency and brilliance.

And Eames missed him entirely. Her temporary partner was great, too, but he was not Goren and sometimes it was hard to put up with him.

Deakins, who got used to Goren over the years, found it hard occasionally to handle his replacement. Sometimes he wondered how Donald Cragen could keep Stabler in line. Detective Buckwalter was doing well with Barek, though.

"So what have you got, Mac?" Deakins asked Detective Taylor who came to him with a report.

"Our suspicion was confirmed. Mr. Cockrill was poisoned. Even though Dr. Rodgers could not determine it as the cause of death we found succhinylcholine in the tube of Cockrill's IV."

"So he was murdered," Deakins mused.

"Yes."

"And I think I know who killed him." Deakins eyed Taylor intently. The detective held the file and a tape in his hands. "What else did you find?"

"Security footage. There is no proof of Miss Wallace's presence at the hospital. If she was there she got to Cockrill unnoticed."

"Anything else linking her with the murder?"

"Sorry, but so far we couldn't find anything else proving that she is responsible for Cockrill's death."

"I see." Deakins nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Detective Taylor."

"I'll send you the report for the Tanner case this afternoon."

"Okay. Thanks."

Taylor nodded a goodbye and left Deakins's office, leaving the captain brooding.

Of course Deakins hated the thought of Nicole Wallace getting off a murder charge again, but he found that he did not feel anything for Cockrill. The man had killed many people and was responsible for putting one of New York's best detectives through hell and into hospital. Goren had a long road of recovery ahead and was likely to go through hell again.

And for once Deakins did not mind that Nicole got away after taking revenge for Bobby Goren.

_**The End**_

A/N: Okay, folks, that's it. I'm done for now. I know you probably want more. I'm thinking about a sequel, but it probably won't be what you expect. If you want a story about Bobby recovering I can recommend _blucougar57_'s **Blind Trust**. For Elliot-recovery read _Future Mrs Stabler_'s **Trip Wire**.

Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing. You were a lot of fun, your comments enlightening sometimes. Thanks a lot. _RoadrunnerGER_


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